Kept Things, Hidden Stories

How does anyone keep going when there is a loss in their life? To be honest, sometimes I really don’t know. When I first lost my spouse, I felt like I did not have a choice in whether or not I could keep going. I was in charge of my family and I needed to do whatever had to be done to get through the first days and weeks before I could even stop to absorb it all. Oddly enough, I had gotten a pin at school earlier (it was part of opening day motivational stuff) and it said “Keep Going.” I wore that pin every day for weeks and even now, I have it on my backpack as a reminder each day.

Every day is definitely not filled with motivation to move forward and even after almost two years, I still find it hard to do some tasks that I know are going to evoke some sort of emotion. (You know—the sad stuff.) Of course, that leads to procrastination. Then one day, you wake up and say to yourself—self—you can do this one thing and it will be ok. You NEED to do this one thing for yourself. Recently, I started the work of cleaning out my bedroom. I just couldn’t stand the fact that I still hadn’t changed anything… I assure you that it was a difficult task and is not completely finished, but I am determined to do it by myself (despite all of the help I have been offered.)

Why do I need to do it myself? Well, because it is all personal stuff, which makes sense because it is my bedroom. One of my tasks was to clean out my husband’s side drawers (the nightstand of two drawers). He has had things in those drawers since he took the damn thing out of his parents’ house after high school. We had both known that there were things in there that he probably would never need or want again, but for some reason we never cleaned it out. We just moved it from apartment to apartment and around our room far too many times to count. I was not disappointed in the historical “artifacts” that I found, but also stupefied at the stuff that had remained in those drawers for 38 years.

I’ll spare you the ridiculousness of it all, but there was one thing I found particularly amusing. I found a baggie with all sorts of jewelry Scott wore in high school. Most of it is not real, and I had no idea that it was even in there. There were 6 “gold” necklaces of varying styles and sizes, 2 silver necklaces, one with a pendant of two deer and one with an arrow with an opal in it (I’m keeping that one for myself), 4 pendants (eagle, cross, racecar with the #8, and rectangular gold and ruby colored inlay), 2 bracelets, 2 money clips, one tie-tack, and 4 tie clips/rods. When I laid them out on the top of the infamous nightstand, I laughed out loud to myself, because I can totally remember him wearing this stuff when he was a teenager. He was always about the bling and this did not change over the years. His taste just got better and he moved from the fake jewelry to the real stuff.

So, here’s the funny part of the story and probably what helped me to realize that the weight of cleaning out may not always be as heavy as the dreaded anticipation of it all. When I looked at the jewelry, I looked carefully to see if there were any markings indicating the gold content. There were none that had that, but there was a mysterious “A” stamped on many of them. I did not pursue it any further for a few days, but left the stuff laid out to look at and show the kids. Then one day, I looked at it all again and I really wanted to know what the stamp meant…. Well—it stood for Amway—you know the old pyramid selling scheme (like Avon). When he was young his parents sold Amway, so it made perfect sense! I laughed so hard when I realized that.

What am I going to do with it???? I’ll keep it for posterity. Maybe the kids will wear it on occasion for fun. I guess what amazed me about this discovery is how quickly the past came into full view. I could instantly see him wearing this stuff. Him in his parachute pants and dress boots, necklaces and rings. He always did like that—he got that from his dad I’m pretty sure.

Alas, the cleaning continues and sometimes I am able to throw things away that will not mean anything to anyone but me and am sparing the kids from ever having to purge a bunch of stuff in the future. Then there are things that I know I need to get rid of, but it feels wrong. Like love letters. I am pretty sure that Scott saved every letter and card I ever gave to him. These are personal and I have a collection of them. I know I need to do something with them because honestly, I don’t want anyone reading our private discourse. It’s not steamy stuff, but it’s nobody else’s business. Another test. Another decision. Another step to take. I think I will bundle them all up—along with the many letters and cards I have from him—and have a personal ceremony. Perhaps I will burn them so our words will intertwine once again as they go up in smoke. Perhaps they will be put back together again up in the ether so he can read them.

So, if you are having to clean out belongings of another—spouse, child, parent, friend, pet, etc.—give yourself grace and do it at your own pace. It is a journey for sure and filled with all of the emotions, but cathartic at the same time. For me, I just don’t want my kids to have to make the “save-or-throw-away” decisions. I will do that for them, at least to the best of my ability.