Part 4 of the Sentimental Treasures vs. Sentimental Clutter Series
In the last post I touched on heirloom clutter that was full-on clutter, the stuff you don’t want to keep. But life isn’t about stripping away everything. There are physical possessions that are cherished, loved and honored. That’s what this post is about, choosing the heirlooms to keep.
How do you sort through the possessions of someone who’s passed? How do you find that delicate balance between honoring their memory and moving forward with your life? It can be tricky. Bernice recently asked:
Question from Bernice:
I don’t seem to have too much trouble with hanging on to my kids memorabilia from when they were little (all young adults now). What I seem to have difficulty with is the leftover things from our parents who have passed. I have lost both my parents and my husband lost his father, all within the past 10 years.
We were not very close to our parents, sad to say. I think there is some guilt involved with getting rid of their belongings (talking a last box or so, most everything else is gone). I almost got rid of an OLD boy scout handbook not realizing it had been my father in law’s. Hubby was very upset about that. I think that if I actually got out those boxes I could get rid of a lot of it, but I still have a little nagging guilt there. I should see if there are anythings I might enjoy having sitting out though.
Looking forward to what you have to say on this subject Tanja!
Now this post isn’t just for Bernice, it’s for everyone, and it’s not just for people who are working through items of someone who’s passed. There are good tips for sentimental treasures here even if you’re not facing this situation.
I’m going to share the decisions I made after losing someone close to me. My father passed away in 2009. It was a long, long fading away for him with 10 years facing Alzheimers. If you’ve had a relative with Alzheimers you know what an emotional experience it is, watching someone you love fade in and out of coherence for years on end.
Even though I had ten years to prepare for his death it still shook me to my core when it happened. I think death is always like that. I feel blessed that I was able to be there with him, along with my mom and sister to share that final moment with him.
We had a loving relationship. Sure there were times we fought, and he hated the way I dressed in high school, and never liked any of my boyfriends :), but the good outweighed any of that minor stuff. He taught me the lost art of doing deep research. Any time I asked a question he’d say, “Go look it up.”
He wasn’t just trying to get me off his back. He would patiently wait while I dug out the right encyclopedia volume (this was before the internet!) and recite the passage to him out loud. Then he would tell me his further thoughts on the subject.
He also taught me to cherish the written word, to read ferociously and write with just as much passion as I read. He was a poet, a mystic, a scholar, and an adventurer. These are the memories I keep, the fun times, the serious times, and the lessons he taught me. And these are the physical possessions I keep to honor those memories:
Our Old Passports: These are really special to me. His is full. There are amazing countries and stamps and scrawled messages through the whole passport book. They’re a reminder of his adventuring ways. Mine is mostly empty, with Finland and Germany stamps. It’s a reminder that I have a lot more adventuring to do.
This is another handful of special memories I keep. One is a military photo I grew up looking at, then there’s the obituary notice and the funeral card. And right there in the middle is my most special treasure, my favorite poem that he ever wrote, typed out by his own hand. Out of boxes and boxes of poetry I consolidated myself down to this one from him. It’s an amazing glimpse into his trips over the Himalayas as a hump flyer during World War II, seeing the clouds pass and and old monk in meditation in a cave as he flew by him. maybe I’ll share it with you all someday. For me keeping that honors the memory of my father as a writer and a scholar.
And then there are the photographs. I have a handful of special photos, like this one. This one reminds me of how funny my dad could be. My sister got him to wear this garb on Saint Patrick’s day one year. I honor his sense of humor and ability to dance on the light side of life with this memory.
All of those other items fit nicely in the bottom shelf of my jewelry box. I pull them out when I want to walk down memory lane. They’re tucked away but cared for and treasured. And then I have one other piece I keep. It’s something I keep out in my life, in use. It’s a small box I bought for him for Christmas one year. You can’t see the top of it but it has a hand carved image of a bearded man on it, kind of like a green man or father time image. My poppa always wore a beard so it reminded me of him when I bought it for him. I chose to take it back and keep it as a memory of him after he passed.
And that’s it. Those are the memories I keep and the physical reminders of those memories. It’s not a lot and all of the items are very small. For me it’s the perfect amount. Everything, including the small wooden box, can fit in the bottom of my jewelry box. Small things, big memories.
So what about your treasures? Have you faced this and still have some unsorted boxes stored in your garage like Bernice? Here’s my advice for what to do if you’re facing this situation:
Give Yourself Time: After he passed there was the natural grieving time. I didn’t do much of anything at all except drag myself to work and back for 6 months. I needed that time to go inwards, reflect on my father and release him from this life. It wasn’t time yet for sorting through all those physical memories.
Listen To Your Inner Self: You’ll know when the time is right. For me, I had a good relationship with my father. Most of my memories are good ones. So 6 months was what it took for me to be ready. Bernice, since you had a strained relationship with your family, listen to your inner self and you’ll know when you’re ready to dig into those possessions and the emotions attached to them. I had a friend who took 15 years to go through the boxes she’d kept from her father. She wasn’t ready yet. 15 years later she was.
Find the Treasured Memories: When you’re ready, set aside a day. Emotions are likely to rise. Gather up all of the memory items associated with that person and let yourself explore the feelings that pop up. Anything that reminds you of something negative doesn’t need to be in your life. Hold on to the good memories you have of them. Even if the relationship was very strained, there are probably a few good memories hiding in your memorabilia of them. Listen to your heart and discover them, then lovingly part with the rest.
Less is More: With photos and all I have under 20 items that I’ve kept that remind me of my poppa. Those small numbers let me fully cherish each and every one of them. Your numbers might be different and that’s just fine!
So what do you think? Have you faced this situation? How did you handle it? Do you have any thoughts to share with Bernice? What are your treasured possessions that you keep? Most important… how are you honoring your memories?
That is beautiful advice Tanja. :)
I have exactly zero belongings of my father’s, who passed 7 years ago. Everyone I tell is SHOCKED about that, so I dont bring it up often, but it is true. The only thing I have that reminds me of him is a tattoo on my foot. (He had a few tattoos himself, and all were deeply meaningful to him, and mine is of the same style.)
I kept a few boxes of his stuff (trophies, albums, notebooks, memorabilia) that I had been given after the funeral for a long time. But one day, about five years after he passed, I was moving house and decided that it wasn’t coming with me. I realized that I never looked in the box because it made me think of his death, not his life. What is the point of keeping them if I never look inside? It just made me feel miserable. I go by your key Tanja – I ask my heart (not my brain) what I honestly feel. If its positive, I can keep it (not that I necessarily will.) If its negative, it goes.
In my opinion… parents are not their things. People are not stuff, any more than we who are still living are the sum of our stuff. Everything you need from them, you have – they are all inside you, in the lessons they taught you. I am sure they would not want you feeling bad over their things for a second!
In my case, I had a very complex relationship with my father, so I chose to get rid of it all and get tattooed instead. I do recommend this for those brave enough – while it feels horrid at the time, I felt so much better afterwards! Like a weight had been lifted, and my freedom had found me. My sister still has photos of him if I ever need a trip down memory lane, but for the meantime, I am happiest with the non-tangible aspects of his that are always with me – his sense of humor, for one.
Hi Mia,
Thank you so much for sharing that. It sounds as though you have found a very special and unique way to remember your father with your tattoo. You are so right, people are not stuff and stuff can never take the place of people.
Thank you so much Tanja, for addressing my question! I love the tips you gave, and feel relieved at the thought that it may only be a few special things that remind me of them that I need to keep. I also look forward to hearing what your other readers have to say!
Bernice
Living the Balanced Life recently posted..The Gifts of Imperfection- Giveaway
Hey Bernice,
I’m so glad it helped. I thought maybe seeing what I’ve kept might be better than reading yet another list of tips on the subject. Sometimes seeing what other people have done is when things click in place for me. I’m excited to hear an update when you’ve got those treasures sorted from the rest of the items.
Cheers,
Tanja
p.s. Glad you’re back from your mini-blogging sabbatical. Hope you’re feeling better!
What a great, well-balanced post! A great change from all the ‘make a digital picture and throw it out’ types of advice ;)
Some things carry so much (sentimental) value in them, I think I would have regrets for the rest of my life if I parted with them. And all in all, most of these things don’t take up much space anyway…
Best wishes from the Netherlands!
Jurino recently posted..Minimalist menu Monday- Leo Babauta
Hi Jurino,
I used to be so sentimental about everything I had way too much. When I downsized I knew I would never get rid of everything. For me it’s the perfect balance point. I have my small little treasures and just like with you, they don’t take up much space. The experience is so different between going 100% digital and having the tactile sensation of physical things. I want to feel it under my fingers!
Cheers,
Tanja
Another home run, Tanja, with wonderful examples. I really like the concept of keeping things that truly matter to you – truly trigger a connection with the loved one. My grandfather died when I was 11 years old and I don’t remember much about him. Later, when I became a musician, my dad gave me my grandfather’s old banjo. I loved displaying the antique instrument for several years, but now my tastes have changed and it sits in a box. I continue to hold on to it because it was my grandfathers, but honestly it means nothing to me. My memories of him have nothing to do with the banjo.
Thank you for another thought-provoking post.
Jill Foley recently posted..Boot Camp – Day 24
Hi Jill,
I hope you have a smaller sentimental item from your grandfather, something that still holds a lot of special memories for you. I bet someone in your family might like that banjo!
Last week I asked myself, “Is my grandmother’s memory really being honored by a tiny bottle of smelling salts on the bathroom counter?” No. Neither was the small box of her things disintegrating in my garage. I have a necklace of hers that I wear fairly often and a few photos (less now, see my latest post!) which are just enough for me. From my grandfather, I have a cool old telescope that sits on our mantle. 3 old books round out the “clutter” I kept from their possessions. At this point, I wouldn’t even have a problem giving them up when we move. I don’t want to be defined by my things, so I shouldn’t define other people by them either.
Elle Dougherty recently posted..But Wait- There’s More!
Hi Elle,
That made me laugh: “Is my grandmother’s memory really being honored by a tiny bottle of smelling salts?” Now that necklace and a few photos, that sounds like the perfect way to honor her!
Thank you for that post. My Grandma died when my middle daughter was a year old. Everybody kept asking me what I wanted of hers. I was closer to my Grandma than anyone in my whole family, but it was honestly a struggle to think of something meaningful. I wanted her wedding ring, but Grandpa wasn’t ready to part with it. So I asked for her watch that she wore (not valuable and no longer works, but she always wore it), a quilt that I remembered her letting me sleep under when I was a child spending the night there, and her Bible. My Grandma was deeply spiritual and I was hoping that she had written notes in it but she hadn’t. However she kept lots of devotionals, poems, and other things meaningful to her in the Bible and it was a great insight. I got a few other things just because people kept trying to give me more, but I donated all but those 3 things in the 12 yrs since she passed. Her watch stays in my jewelry box and I take it out and look at it from time to time. But mostly I cherish my memories and a few photos.
Hi Kathy,
Thank you for sharing that! I know what you mean about little written notes. My mom still has many of my dad’s old books and it was a surprise for me when I was visiting her and went to read one and found all of his scrawls on the sides of pages. It was like having him there with me again for a moment.
Thank you for sharing your journey with your father’s things. Your examples were wonderful and so helpful.
My Great Aunt Helen passed about a 7 years ago. We didn’t always get along, but she played a large role in my life growing up. I kept a small glass with ducks on it from her. When I would spend the night at her house when I was little the juice glass was a special glass just for me to use. It now sits on a little shelf in my kitchen. I see it daily and it reminds me of her and that time of innocence and joy in my life.
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Hi Kat,
How lovely. It’s like a treasure of your Great Aunt and your childhood all wrapped up into one lovely ducky container!
This is a beautiful post Tanja. Thank you for sharing your memories of your father with all of us. You offer some wonderful advice about keeping only one or two items that remind us of a person or time. This is really helping me make decisions about what to keep and what to let go. As I go though each area of our home, facing down those bins of “memories” seems less daunting. Thank you so much for the inspiration.
In the interest of community, I will share this story:
When I was in tenth grade, my father died suddenly of an epilepsy induced heart attack. I remember the moment we found out. The phone rang very early in the morning – like 6am. This was not unusual because my mom would sometimes get called into work at this time. But this morning, the hushed tone of her voice in the other room, and the length of the call made me sit up and listen. When she said, “Thanks for calling Katie” I instantly knew my father had died. My mom only knew one Katie – my father’s brother’s wife. There would be no other reason for her to call. I just sat in bed waiting for my mom to come and tell me. She never came. I got out of bed and asked what was wrong and she told me to go back to sleep. I heard her make a phone call and a little while later one of my Uncle’s (maternal) was at the door. My mom called my sister and I out of bed and into the living room and told us. We cried. I went to my room and sobbed. I called my friends and cried. But I never wanted to talk to my mom about it. For months after the funeral, I would sob in the bathroom, or when my mom was not home, but never in front of her. I could not talk about my grief with her.
My parents went through a rough divorce when I was five. We visited my father (supervised because of his history of not taking his epilepsy medication) semi regularly for a few years and then the visits became fewer and fewer. The last memory I have of my father is him not showing up for a long anticipated Christmas celebration. That was in sixth grade. Between sixth grade and tenth grade we had zero contact with my father. When he died, I did not even know what he looked like. When I saw him in the coffin, he looked nothing like the man I remembered. A few weeks after the funeral, my Uncle (paternal) brought over a few shoe boxes of my fathers things. My sister and I divided them up and I tucked mine away in my memory box. I have looked in that shoebox less than five times in nearly 20 years, but I have carried it around with me to each dorm room, house, and apartment I have lived in. Each time I looked in it, it made me sad, angry, bitter and confused. The things in that box have never conjured good feelings or happy memories for me. In fact, the happy memories I have of my father have no “thing” attached to them. They are just my actual memories.
Why am I sharing this story?
About a month ago, when I first tried to go though my memory bins, that shoebox was the first thing I pulled it out. I purged all of the stuff that I had no connection with. But I still kept some things, because I thought I should keep something of my father’s. The more I think about it, the more I realize that those items that my father carried with him all those yeas when he didn’t bother to contact us, just remind me that he made a life for himself without us – without his children. And you know what, it occurred to me recently that I don’t need an artifact to remind me of his selfishness and rejection- I feel and have felt it deeply in a million ways over the years, despite having rarely visited the box. My memories – good and bad – of my father are part of me. Realizing this about my father, finally letting go of his things, and reflecting on my feelings about it for the last few weeks, has changed my perspective on my mementos. I don’t need a tangible thing to remind me of every step I have made. There are special things that help me remember good times, important people, and act as a record of my life, but I do not need to hold onto the minutia to remind me that I have crossed paths with some wonderful people and had great times (and met some nasty people and went though lousy times) in my short 34 years.
jaime recently posted..snomageddon southern style
Thank you for sharing this Jaime….you’ve got some really good insights here. I love the line…”I don’t need a tangible thing to remind me of every step I have made.” – very powerful.
Jill Foley recently posted..Boot Camp – Day 24
Wow Jaime. That is a really strong story to share. I have a friend who has a similar experience. Her father didn’t abandon her in the traditional sense, he committed suicide which is a different type of abandonment. She hauled a suitcase of his belongings around with her for 15 years. Finally we opened it together. She was able to sort through the items that made her smile and the ones that caused her pain. She kept the stuff like goofy photos, the stuff that made her feel good. Everything else, which was most of it, we threw away together.
Congratulations to you for coming to your realization. You now have a wonderful family you’ve built for yourself. Those feelings of abandonment will probably never leave, but time is kind in allowing memories like that to fade.
Hi Tanja,
Great post. Here’s a bit of woo-woo (as you would say) for you: I truly believe that objects carry the traces of their past owners, and that these traces are like long-forgotten smells to us – they have the power to connect us to the past in a tactile and visceral way. (I actually wonder if maybe objects held more power when they they were built to last, non-disposable, and kept for many decades. Will anyone want to hang onto my broken digital camera after I’m gone? I think not.)
I a few things that make me feel connected to my ancestors, my parents, my kid, and my sweetheart – not as many as I used to, but a few. I do need to keep them, and I don’t regret it one bit.
Take care,
Lisa
Lisa at Semi-Material World recently posted..In Praise of Maximalist Cooking or- Why I’m Not a Minimalist Cook
I lost my mother 6 months ago, she lived with me for the past 40 years and she accumulated many things during that time. Most of them are books, with a few collected bells from just about everywhere.
I decided to keep everything by taking pictures of all the items and saving them to a CD, with a back up CD in our safe. That allowed me to part with just about everything physical. The books were donated to the library that she loved to go to. and the Bells are now made into wind chimes that constantly ring out her love for me. When I want to stroll down memory lane, I just pop in the CD into my computer and can view them to my hearts content.
Mama was not an arts and crafts person, but she would have loved to have made me a memory quilt if she had lived long enough. So I posted on the facebook to all of her family and friends this idea. Each of them are to make one quilt block (made of anything, as this will be a wall hanging). It was to share their memories of my mother with me. The quilt blocks are continuing to arrive along with explanations why the person made the particular memory block.
This way I have not only my memories of mama, but everyone elses too.