One of the most devastating times of my life was being beside my mom as we sifted through 50 years of living to move her from her marital home after my dad died. Each thing was special and I began boxing stuff behind her back and taking them to thrift stores. I took a few things home and now I kinda treasure them. I grew up without much, I take care of my belongings and get angry when others don’t respect my things, i have downsized a lot of my clothing but still worry (I have had cancer recently) about when I die my kids and all this stuff. Yes I still consume. I do thrift shop so most can be just junked. But yes belongings are more then just inanimate objects. I think you should let yourself off the hook as others have said. In the end, it was love that was taken with her. Only love.
I think about this a lot. When we went on the road, I found it deeply freeing to cast off so many things. Not only for the practical reason of becoming nomads, but also because I was haunted by the thought of our daughter eventually having to deal with all the stuff. I felt I was giving her a gift by doing that when she was still young (and we were young enough). I don’t regret it, but now I have a more nuanced view of how humans relate to their stuff. It’s something I’ve been writing about. Your words, as always, give me more to ponder.
This landed perfectly for me as I'm about to move my stepmother into a retirement home and will be sorting through all of her stuff & my father's (who died 11 years ago) stuff. They were tchotchke collectors. She was a big consumer. And, over the past few years as dementia has set in she's become a hoarder and hider. Yay!
I have become the keeper of past treasures. I didn't want to be placed in this position. Of six living children at the times of my parents deaths, I was the only one living nearby. The going through items and making piles of the things designated for each of us. Those piles, if not picked up by the end of the month, ended up in my home. One by one my much older siblings passed on. Again my home became the repository for his instruments. More piles to deal with. I can't bear the thought of leaving all this to my daughters to take care of. I need to rent a dumpster.
My mother created beauty in everything she touched. Her life, the parts she owned and controlled, were perfectly curated. She loved to find unfound treasures in antique shops, the stories they told through their energy of lives once lived, and place them amongst her other treasured finds. Our childhood home was immaculate always ready to receive guests. And when her time had passed my sister and brother were the unwanted benefactors of it all. The moving, the storing of things that mattered because they mattered to her, because she spent what precious money she had to secure them, because the pang of scarcity that eats at me every god damn day. This piece is the mirror I’ve walked pasted hastily avoiding what it would reflect and yet with the pain, brought peace and understanding and for that I thank you!!!
I am the second of 7, 4 of which are completely incapable of stepping up to “sort” when Moms time comes. Grateful that she had been judicious in letting much go since Dad passed, dreading the process of that sort. Thank you for the writing, it helps me (all of us) appreciate the universal issue of our material tendency to seek comfort in the inanimate.
Yep, this resonated with me too. My father died last September and we were not particularly close. In fact, most of his friends and acquaintances who I met were shocked to learn that he had children (that was a gut punch). Yet I was the one left to clear out his 2 story house and the 30 years of belongings in it.
From the outside, my father was a neat and organized man. So I was shocked to discover just how much stuff I had to go through. And how many "just in case" things he had. That man had duplicates and triplicates of everything that he liked, especially clothing and camping gear. Did he need 4 of the same REI down jackets? No. Did he need a 120 t-shirts and 30 pairs of jeans? No. Six different sleeping bags and 3 tents? No. Twenty green watchcloths, never used? No.
In the end, everything that couldn't be donated ended up being taken away by a junk hauler, 4 trailers full. He would have hated that. But it was the best I could do.
Wow, you write so beautifully about such a difficult subject. I can relate on many levels! The art installation is so interesting too as a complement to your experience.
Wow, you write so beautifully about such a difficult subject. I can relate on many levels! The art installation is so interesting too as a complement to your experience.
Beautifully written. Mothers and daughters often have really complicated relationships. My mother was a lot like yours. We have spent the last year bringing boxes from storage units that contained her things -- and my things. The kids bring them to the house, they lay them out on a long table. I go out to the table and pick a few things or sometimes nothing at all. Then they box it up and take it immediately to donate. We have successfully cleared three storage units -- and none of them were considered small -- over the last year. Just one left. It's the largest. I like how we do it. If I didn't it myself, I would be too stressed and end up ignoring it until I died leaving a huge mess for my daughter. This way, it's done.
Kim: you continue to prove you’re one of the best writers out there! Your topic today was intriguing. Let me just say: your mother has forgiven you for anything and everything that concerns you regarding your relationship with her. She is standing in the presence of pure love - a space without room for guilt and regret. Those emotions are left only to those of us still standing on earth. Forgive yourself as your mother already has. Be well. Write on.
I went through this with my mother- a saver of everything and the move from our family home to a small apartment in a retirement community- twice. Then the assisted living room, where her rings she would not give up, disappeared. But all this was nothing compared to when my oldest daughter died at 50 of cancer and the next year her husband suffered an undetected bleeding ulcer and suddenly died. They had no children and lived a plane ride away, so his sister and I were tasted with emptying their house and getting it ready to go on the market. It took many trips and ripped my heart out over and over as I’d come across mementos from her childhood and letters written to her by family. My younger daughter is not a saver- so I’ve given many family items to my niece, including my grandfather’s 56’ Packard. It’s a long process and I know I need to do more to reduce the stress of it all in my head that keeps me awake at night.
I’d like to add that everyone needs to set up a trust to help those left with the financial situation. My daughter and son-in-law did not have one and we are still dealing with California probate after three+ years.
I worry that my son will have to deal with hundreds of books, and will not notice things I might have thought had value in our family story. For instance, I've kept a plaque that was on my desk when I was working. It reminds me that I attained degrees and certificates and did useful work. I'm glad they accepted a chest that was my grandmother's hope chest.
Memories. Turning down my mom's request that I be her executor, on the advice of an aunt whose siblings hated her after, yet her choice ended up being a bad attorney (still wonder how much extra he took and made). Telling that attorney to not give the valuation to my siblings so they were forced to choose items based on wanting it or thinking it was worth a lot. Seeing one sibling at my mom's house, Mom's body still warm in the next room, wearing the sweater Mom had tried to give me but I said no it looks good on you wear it you're alive and she said take it when I die. Worse happened and worse could have happened. It's been decades but her estate is still open because of the bad attorney and siblings thinking they can sue. I'm not even sure he still practices.
Around the same time my mom died a friend's mom died. She also has five siblings. Her boyfriend told me it was frustrating to watch, because they were all so considerate of each other decisions weren't made. One would want something but find out another wanted it and they'd go back and forth, "Oh, you take it," "No no, you want it more," "It wouldn't feel right, it should be yours," and on. The house was kept for two siblings, one who needed care and the other who didn't have much and agreed to help the other. They showed such care for each other. That's how it should be.
You may feel guilt, that you did something wrong, but you took care of your mom's feelings. Those were her most precious possessions and you nurtured the shared love. What are things?
This resonates so hard. Sorting and purging is awful, whether it's for parents, uncles, or ourselves. What really got me, though, was this passage that so accurately describes my relationship with my own mother: "I lied to her because I lied to her about almost everything, because that was how we communicated. The truth, for mom, was always painful and jarring, whether she was speaking it or hearing it, so we avoided it. We loved each other so much as to not ever tell each other the truth." 🎯
One of the most devastating times of my life was being beside my mom as we sifted through 50 years of living to move her from her marital home after my dad died. Each thing was special and I began boxing stuff behind her back and taking them to thrift stores. I took a few things home and now I kinda treasure them. I grew up without much, I take care of my belongings and get angry when others don’t respect my things, i have downsized a lot of my clothing but still worry (I have had cancer recently) about when I die my kids and all this stuff. Yes I still consume. I do thrift shop so most can be just junked. But yes belongings are more then just inanimate objects. I think you should let yourself off the hook as others have said. In the end, it was love that was taken with her. Only love.
I think about this a lot. When we went on the road, I found it deeply freeing to cast off so many things. Not only for the practical reason of becoming nomads, but also because I was haunted by the thought of our daughter eventually having to deal with all the stuff. I felt I was giving her a gift by doing that when she was still young (and we were young enough). I don’t regret it, but now I have a more nuanced view of how humans relate to their stuff. It’s something I’ve been writing about. Your words, as always, give me more to ponder.
This landed perfectly for me as I'm about to move my stepmother into a retirement home and will be sorting through all of her stuff & my father's (who died 11 years ago) stuff. They were tchotchke collectors. She was a big consumer. And, over the past few years as dementia has set in she's become a hoarder and hider. Yay!
I have become the keeper of past treasures. I didn't want to be placed in this position. Of six living children at the times of my parents deaths, I was the only one living nearby. The going through items and making piles of the things designated for each of us. Those piles, if not picked up by the end of the month, ended up in my home. One by one my much older siblings passed on. Again my home became the repository for his instruments. More piles to deal with. I can't bear the thought of leaving all this to my daughters to take care of. I need to rent a dumpster.
My mother created beauty in everything she touched. Her life, the parts she owned and controlled, were perfectly curated. She loved to find unfound treasures in antique shops, the stories they told through their energy of lives once lived, and place them amongst her other treasured finds. Our childhood home was immaculate always ready to receive guests. And when her time had passed my sister and brother were the unwanted benefactors of it all. The moving, the storing of things that mattered because they mattered to her, because she spent what precious money she had to secure them, because the pang of scarcity that eats at me every god damn day. This piece is the mirror I’ve walked pasted hastily avoiding what it would reflect and yet with the pain, brought peace and understanding and for that I thank you!!!
I am the second of 7, 4 of which are completely incapable of stepping up to “sort” when Moms time comes. Grateful that she had been judicious in letting much go since Dad passed, dreading the process of that sort. Thank you for the writing, it helps me (all of us) appreciate the universal issue of our material tendency to seek comfort in the inanimate.
You recorded it! I loved listening to this piece so much!
Yep, this resonated with me too. My father died last September and we were not particularly close. In fact, most of his friends and acquaintances who I met were shocked to learn that he had children (that was a gut punch). Yet I was the one left to clear out his 2 story house and the 30 years of belongings in it.
From the outside, my father was a neat and organized man. So I was shocked to discover just how much stuff I had to go through. And how many "just in case" things he had. That man had duplicates and triplicates of everything that he liked, especially clothing and camping gear. Did he need 4 of the same REI down jackets? No. Did he need a 120 t-shirts and 30 pairs of jeans? No. Six different sleeping bags and 3 tents? No. Twenty green watchcloths, never used? No.
In the end, everything that couldn't be donated ended up being taken away by a junk hauler, 4 trailers full. He would have hated that. But it was the best I could do.
Tiny moments of joy. That's what you gave your mom, and that was the best gift you could give her.
Thank you, Mitchell. Apprecaie that.
Wow, you write so beautifully about such a difficult subject. I can relate on many levels! The art installation is so interesting too as a complement to your experience.
Wow, you write so beautifully about such a difficult subject. I can relate on many levels! The art installation is so interesting too as a complement to your experience.
Beautifully written. Mothers and daughters often have really complicated relationships. My mother was a lot like yours. We have spent the last year bringing boxes from storage units that contained her things -- and my things. The kids bring them to the house, they lay them out on a long table. I go out to the table and pick a few things or sometimes nothing at all. Then they box it up and take it immediately to donate. We have successfully cleared three storage units -- and none of them were considered small -- over the last year. Just one left. It's the largest. I like how we do it. If I didn't it myself, I would be too stressed and end up ignoring it until I died leaving a huge mess for my daughter. This way, it's done.
Kim: you continue to prove you’re one of the best writers out there! Your topic today was intriguing. Let me just say: your mother has forgiven you for anything and everything that concerns you regarding your relationship with her. She is standing in the presence of pure love - a space without room for guilt and regret. Those emotions are left only to those of us still standing on earth. Forgive yourself as your mother already has. Be well. Write on.
I went through this with my mother- a saver of everything and the move from our family home to a small apartment in a retirement community- twice. Then the assisted living room, where her rings she would not give up, disappeared. But all this was nothing compared to when my oldest daughter died at 50 of cancer and the next year her husband suffered an undetected bleeding ulcer and suddenly died. They had no children and lived a plane ride away, so his sister and I were tasted with emptying their house and getting it ready to go on the market. It took many trips and ripped my heart out over and over as I’d come across mementos from her childhood and letters written to her by family. My younger daughter is not a saver- so I’ve given many family items to my niece, including my grandfather’s 56’ Packard. It’s a long process and I know I need to do more to reduce the stress of it all in my head that keeps me awake at night.
I’d like to add that everyone needs to set up a trust to help those left with the financial situation. My daughter and son-in-law did not have one and we are still dealing with California probate after three+ years.
I worry that my son will have to deal with hundreds of books, and will not notice things I might have thought had value in our family story. For instance, I've kept a plaque that was on my desk when I was working. It reminds me that I attained degrees and certificates and did useful work. I'm glad they accepted a chest that was my grandmother's hope chest.
Memories. Turning down my mom's request that I be her executor, on the advice of an aunt whose siblings hated her after, yet her choice ended up being a bad attorney (still wonder how much extra he took and made). Telling that attorney to not give the valuation to my siblings so they were forced to choose items based on wanting it or thinking it was worth a lot. Seeing one sibling at my mom's house, Mom's body still warm in the next room, wearing the sweater Mom had tried to give me but I said no it looks good on you wear it you're alive and she said take it when I die. Worse happened and worse could have happened. It's been decades but her estate is still open because of the bad attorney and siblings thinking they can sue. I'm not even sure he still practices.
Around the same time my mom died a friend's mom died. She also has five siblings. Her boyfriend told me it was frustrating to watch, because they were all so considerate of each other decisions weren't made. One would want something but find out another wanted it and they'd go back and forth, "Oh, you take it," "No no, you want it more," "It wouldn't feel right, it should be yours," and on. The house was kept for two siblings, one who needed care and the other who didn't have much and agreed to help the other. They showed such care for each other. That's how it should be.
You may feel guilt, that you did something wrong, but you took care of your mom's feelings. Those were her most precious possessions and you nurtured the shared love. What are things?
This resonates so hard. Sorting and purging is awful, whether it's for parents, uncles, or ourselves. What really got me, though, was this passage that so accurately describes my relationship with my own mother: "I lied to her because I lied to her about almost everything, because that was how we communicated. The truth, for mom, was always painful and jarring, whether she was speaking it or hearing it, so we avoided it. We loved each other so much as to not ever tell each other the truth." 🎯