As I take the first tentative steps into dealing with photographs, memories, keepsakes and other paraphernalia around our home there is one word that comes to mind. "Why?"
What do I have and hold onto that has any value to anyone but me? Is this really worth the effort? Or should I simply dump and shred the vast majority of that-which-has-accumulated throughout the years?
Then I heard Mom's voice quietly penetrate my subconscious thoughts. I believe I was wishing for a quieter, less committed life. "Be careful what you wish for" whispered through my mind. I think it was Mom's voice.
Mom lived without Dad for thirty seven and a half years. My brother was in grade 12 at the time Dad was hospitalized and continued to live with Mom another five to six years (I could tell you exactly, because I kept the first letter he wrote me from his new apartment and I know exactly where to find it). There were various "borders" who came and went throughout the years, but for the most part, Mom was on her own the vast majority of the time.
I think Mom and I are wired similarly. We navigate life solo well. Home is important to us. Family grounds us. We do best when we have a game plan for the day ahead.
I remember one of my very first thoughts when my first son was born. I was 17 years old at the time. Please forgive me. I think my thoughts were a little bit like this: "A boy ..." "Eighteen more years 'til he grows up" (not necessarily in that order).
Then, I kept on having a baby about every ten years. Now, at age (almost) 60, I am still parenting my youngest son who is attending University. I may be 65 before I'm on my own within this house of mine. I have never lived a day of my adult life without a dependent under my roof. But the day will come. Then what will I have?
I imagine myself wandering through my home, appreciating that which I held onto. My brother's first letter of independence. Photographs and albums that encompass Mom and Dad's family history, up until I stopped developing pictures that are stored on my computer or a USB drive. I can picture myself sitting still with Mom's library and going through her books one by one by one. I hope my curiosity for life starts to mirror hers as the demands of life start to diminish.
I see myself combing through the memories I have collected along the way and knowing when to let go and what is worthy of holding onto. I have three sons who are NOT collectors of memorabilia. What I have, will need to find homes elsewhere. It may become a project to re-home some of what matters to me before the day my children have to decide.
I foresee a long life ahead. I will need to re-invent myself and become someone who has something to talk about when in the company of others. I need to keep the air around me fresh, new and alive.
Who will I become when I reach the stage when I am living on my own? I know one cannot hold onto the past but I also know the value of feeling the roots of belonging.
The need to cull and purge is ongoing. Some of what held value to me at the onset of my day, I was ready to purge by the day's end. Why would I hold onto this? What value does it hold? To me? To anyone else?
As I empty one set of shelves, to fill it with the photographs and memories I have deemed worthy of keeping, I must continue to ask myself "Why? Why is this important? Is it worthy of the space it takes to hold this? If I was not here, would this be of value to anyone else?"
I should "Marie Kondo" this scenario, pull out all my memorabilia and stack it all in one room to recognize the vastness of the task at hand.
Two Rubbermaid containers at a time is enough for today. I need another extended long weekend before I take on the world. When I accept the challenge, I must ask myself two questions:
- Does this bring me joy?
- Why am I holding onto this?
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