I don’t entirely know what to call this video. Somehow “Sorting Out the Clutter of Someone You Love Who Has Died” sounds too wordy. But that’s what this is.
At least, that’s what it is for me. The project of clearing out my parents’ house that my mom and I were supposed to tackle together is now mine. She didn’t have to die to get out of it! Leave it to her to take it to the extreme.
As I stare at the relatively organized but still daunting piles of stuff, I’m left with some questions. The unhelpful kind.
How do you approach it? What are the criteria? What’s an appropriate time frame?
Trick question.
There is no simple answer. Remember how grief varies from person to person? So does this.
Regardless, I still needed a strategy in my own life. If I can go into this with a game plan, perhaps it will feel less daunting. While I’m an organized person, clearing clutter enmeshed with grief is a whole different ballgame.
To my surprise, there’s a dearth of videos on YouTube addressing this topic. (Can we pause to enjoy what a great term dearth is for saying a scarcity or lack of something?) I should say that I’m surprised but not surprised. For the hundreds upon hundreds of clutter and organization videos, I’ve found maybe five that even mention this aspect of clearing a home. Yet none of them offers an approach.
Our relationship to physical objects changes when someone dies. Death marks a finite amount of items that were “their things.” Everything that belonged to my mom already exists. We’re never going to make another quilt together again. She’s not going to have another favorite glass or sewing notion.
But a curated assortment of items to keep is far more potent than everything. So here are my questions that I’ve been asking while clearing out my mom’s stuff and the belongings that my folks have accrued through the years —
ONE | Would I have gotten rid of this if I were doing this project with my mom?
I can hear myself half joking, half exasperated, “Why do you need to keep this?” or “How did you end up with this in the first place?” Inevitably my mom would have had a reason. We would laugh and add it to the donate box.
If it’s something I would have given her a hard time about saving or wondered how she acquired it, I try to let it go. Our relationship to things changes when someone dies so I try to bear in mind what my reaction would be if my mom were still with me.
TWO | Will I use this?
This question mostly applies to the sewing room. I learned to quilt from my mom at an early age. She’s been supplying me with her favorite rulers and bobbin winders and Olfa cutters ever since. When our collections combined, I ended up with a lot of duplicates — that and some weird quilted gifts she received through the years.
Releasing things that I will never use or that would never have set foot in my own studio makes it a touch easier to cull the forty plus years of quilt related belongings that made her incredibly happy.
THREE | What does this mean to me?
Like it or not, we imprint energy and memories on items. A bright yellow plastic cinnamon shaker shaped like a cat reminds me of breakfasts with my grandparents at the cottage. Sitting together staring at the lake, with every jogger or rollerblader who passed, my grandma would ask, “Who is that?” Inevitably she would trot out to introduce herself if they sped by regularly.
It’s a ridiculous object. Yet holding it transports me to a place filled with so much love and wonderful memories. It stays.
FOUR | Does it make me smile?
Here’s a surefire indicator of something to keep. If my eyes disappear as a smile crosses my face, that item remains with me as I determine a prominent place to display it. I want that reaction every time I enter the room.
FIVE | Will keeping this bring her back?
Gut wrenching though it may be, no amount of stuff will bring my mom back to life. Yet there are items that when I hold them in my hands, I’m certain that if I focus on them enough, she’ll walk into the room. Hasn’t happened yet.
I’ve found that a good cry and some angry words into the air let me part ways with these things. Keeping them around isn’t actually enhancing the memories.
SIX | Am I holding on to this because someone else loved this?
As I write this, I find myself wondering, “Is this what we consider heirlooms?” We pass things down from generation to generation because someone else loved it. That in no way guarantees that we will. There’s a very particular painting that comes to mind with this question. My grandpa loved it and in turn my mom did. A young girl stares into the distance leaving us only her back to see. It’s kind of a bummer of a painting, if you ask me. Yet I’m not willing to part with it because of the love that those I loved poured into it. It certainly doesn’t get a prominent place in my space, but I can find a less frequented corner of the basement where it can hang.
Sometimes we decide to keep things because they symbolize the love that others had for each other. It isn’t about the painting for me. That piece of art reminds me of the love that my mom and her dad had for each other — seems worthy of keeping.
SEVEN | Am I ready to let this go?
It’s been five months since my mom’s death. Fresh grief. As time passes and the acuteness of the grief softens, I’m sure that I’ll find myself saying, “Oh! I can part with that.” For now, there are items that I’m simply not ready to see head out the door. They’re not special or particularly significant. In fact, the majority of things I that prompt this reaction are ridiculous. There’s no obvious reason to keep them other than the perfectly acceptable fact that I’m not ready.
Maybe I should have mentioned that these questions are in no particular order. This isn’t that kind of list. Decluttering in the midst of grief is meandering. It can’t be rushed, though I know that often it must be due to life logistics. If you have the luxury of time, embrace it.
I would much rather have a well curated collection of things that were my mom’s than a house so packed that nothing has significance. But you know what? This is hard. Hard. Hard. Hard.
So don’t rush it.
Pushing yourself to make these decisions is only going to cause you more stress. As the grief metabolizes, the choices will become more clear.
One last quick reminder.
There’s no right or wrong way to do this. Whether it’s a parent, a spouse, a friend, or a child whose belongings are facing you, approach it in whatever manner feels right for you. Tune out all of the voices telling you the proper way to remove someone else’s belongings. They’re well meaning (most of the time) but are not in your shoes.
xoxo
Libby
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