How to Trade Your Grief for Love
Recently, the 20th anniversary of my father's death came and went. Dad died unexpectedly one evening after my husband and I and our teenaged children had been visiting. We drove the 70 miles home, happy about our plans to visit again the next week.
My mom went into their bedroom to get Dad's bed and other stuff ready so she could help him settle for the night. (He had ALS and was confined to a wheelchair.) She went back out to the living room and found him. The paramedics who came within minutes after she called 911 pronounced him dead. Then she called me. The phone was ringing as we walked in the door of our home.
ALS is a horrible disease with no cure. I had been mourning my father for more than two years already as he gradually lost his ability to walk, swallow, and even sit upright or turn his head. But I wasn't prepared for him to die. None of us were. ALS is a slow death – and then it's sudden.
Why we hang on
When we suffer grief, our instinct is to hang on to every bit of the person we cared about. Notes, pictures, clothes, collections, and furniture are all we have. We no longer have the person they belonged to, so we cling to their things.
It's the reason we hang on to things our kids made, wore, or played with when they were younger. You love your teenager or young adult today, but the 3-year-old, the 10-year-old is gone. Your child is in some ways who they always were, but in other ways he has gone through a metamorphosis. That old stuff is the tangible reminder of his 7-year-old gap-toothed grin.
When you declutter, your mind may realize that you can't keep everything, unless you plan to fill your garage, basement, and rented storage space forever and ever. (Remember that once it's stored, chances are you'll never look at it again.) Your mind is rational, but your emotions will try to take charge.
Emotions are good. I'm not suggesting you should stifle your emotions. But may I suggest that even warm and loving emotions can hold you captive? Love can morph into guilt, obligation, and even fear. Fear that you'll forget, that you won't live up to the duty you've placed on yourself to maintain your loved one's legacy.
My friend was in this situation. Starting in her kitchen and wardrobe, she had removed duplicates, things that were broken or didn't fit, things she'd bought on a whim or never used. She'd created some space, and was learning to keep those spaces clear.
But she was burdened with a lot of sentimental possessions. While she desperately wanted to downsize, she was worried about letting go. "They're my memories," she said. But no – her memories are within her, intangible. The stuff is just stuff.
Finding the love
When my friend began to declutter personal memorabilia, she started with two boxes of saved greeting cards. They had been sitting on a closet shelf, but she admitted that she never looked at them or read them. She just lifted the lid and added new cards when she received them.
She decided to read through the cards one last time before letting them go. Almost all of them were simply signed by the sender. Some had very short notes. But an old one from her parents had a longer, heartfelt, handwritten message from her mom, and a shorter, but loving note from her dad. She had forgotten all about this card, so finding it was a surprise. Now she keeps it in her nightstand drawer, in a heavy-duty sheet protector* which allows her to see both the pretty cover art and the handwritten notes inside.
* Thank you for supporting this blog. If you purchase through my links, I may earn a small commission.
By decluttering those hidden boxes, my friend uncovered a personal treasure she now cherishes and regularly enjoys. In fact, she was able to process some of the residual grief she felt when her parents passed away several years ago.
Letting go is powerful and freeing, especially when we realize that holding on to everything just creates an unappreciated pile. In a pile, treasures go unidentified. They're inaccessible. They're lost.
Decluttering restored this unique and special item to my friend.
You don't need all the stuff.
Start sorting. Take a picture if you must have a record. Donate, sell, toss. Your stuff isn't doing any good in stuffed a box under the bed.
Instead of saving every report card or drawing your kids bring home, select a few pieces and display them on a bulletin board that rotates monthly. A digital photo book is a nice way to preserve those memories too, or you could save a handful of items from each year and put together an actual scrapbook. Don't tell yourself you're saving it all for them. Trust me, they won't want it all.
If you journal, you might be keeping everything you've written. But if you're in the habit of venting or processing your feelings on paper, you may not want to leave your journals for anyone else to read. Maybe you should shred them. I personally keep a 5-year memory book that anyone can read.
Parting with yearbooks, photos, and letters can be a challenge. Donating the rocking chair you no longer have room for or the backpacking equipment you no longer use can make you feel old. It's a reminder that time is passing. But you need to let go of (most of) the past to make room for the future.
Don't let guilt, obligation, or fear keep you burdened. That's not what your lost loved one would want, is it? You can remove the artifacts, and the memories will remain. Trade your grief for love.
Decluttering removes excess belongings to make room and time for the things you value. You unburden yourself so you're free to pursue goals that bring you joy and fulfillment. Death cleaning goes further, since it removes the burden from others of deciding what to do with your possessions. Life becomes more pleasant and comfortable for you when you remove what's unimportant, but the same behavior also creates a better situation for your heirs after you're gone.
With death cleaning, everybody wins.
I've been working on my new book, More Life, Less Stuff: Death Cleaning for Good since the spring, and it's finally scheduled for release on October 12th! You can pre-order the e-book at a discounted price ($5.99 instead of $7.99), and it will be delivered to your chosen device on that day. Paperback and hardcover editions will go on sale then, too.
I hope you and I are going to live for many more years. But whether you're 40, 60, or even 80 or more, death cleaning is a worthwhile choice for your time and energy. In a way, it even keeps you young, because it helps you focus on the here and now instead of worrying about tomorrow or towing the baggage (literal and figurative) from yesterday. Let's begin!
Comments
Post a Comment