Despite my mother’s penchant for organization and decluttering, there remained considerable work ahead. When my parents purchased their home 15 years earlier, it had been a showcase property, elegantly decorated and furnished. Shortly thereafter, my father passed away, leaving my mother to navigate life independently, separated from her five children. She adapted remarkably well, cultivating a supportive circle of friends. My mother engaged in a book club, traveled, played golf, and made regular visits to her children’s families. During this period, as I focused on my own growing family, visiting her became challenging, especially given that her home revolved around a swimming pool deck, which made it difficult for me to feel at ease. Consequently, my visits were infrequent.
My siblings and I decided it would be best to sell her house, fully furnished. To tackle this task, I divided the process into three categories: items for donation, which filled the garage; trash, which overtook the driveway; and belongings to keep, which filled five large boxes. I dedicated three intense days, each lasting 16 hours, to sorting through her possessions.
This experience was both beautiful and heart-wrenching, marked by a profound sense of solitude. I found myself sifting through my parents’ belongings, reminiscing about the artwork they collected together, and processing the closure of a chapter in my life that I had never anticipated would end. I enjoyed the framed photographs my mother had displayed throughout the house, capturing moments of joy with my father, my siblings, and their families.
Among the treasures I discovered was a scrapbook, reminiscent of a baby brag book, but for adults. It chronicled our achievements—job promotions, legal victories, and invitations to art shows. I could picture her proudly sharing it with friends. Yet, part of me, having enjoyed a few glasses of wine after the long sorting days, wished my sister could have joined me. It would have lightened the emotional load, allowing us to share laughter and tears together.
It pained me to witness the remnants of a woman struggling with her independence, evidenced by the drawers filled with books on memory loss, memory puzzles, jars of vitamins, and notes to herself. It was clear she had faced challenges that she never voiced. In hindsight, we should have recognized the signs.
One of my brothers and I had gifted her digital photo frames filled with images of our lives, but they were nowhere to be found—likely discarded due to her inability to operate them. As her world shrank, she seemed to streamline her belongings, attempting to create a more manageable environment. A large, framed whiteboard in her kitchen, which I had made for her to jot down tasks, still bore the note “Tissues” from two visits prior.
As I categorized the growing piles of trash and donations, I carefully selected items for the boxes to keep—sentimental treasures that felt too meaningful to part with. I contemplated what to do with the family photos we had all sent her annually. Should I return them to the senders?
Years ago, when my mother-in-law experienced a similar loss, she sent me a cherished Tiffany vase that I had given her mother. Although it wasn’t my style, I kept it, as it reminds me of her kindness. Inspired by this, I decided to do the same with the gifts I had given my mom. Being an artistic person, I often sent her handmade or specially chosen items. If she didn’t resonate with something, it was often discarded.
Amidst this process, I stumbled upon a lovely glass rainbow that I had given her shortly after my father’s passing. I had hoped it would evoke happy memories of him. It appeared to have survived her purging, and I was overjoyed to bring it home, carefully placing it in my carry-on to ensure its safety. Now, each time I see it on a shelf, I am reminded of my mother, and it brings a smile to my face.
This reflective journey has been a poignant reminder of the complexities of life and the importance of cherishing memories.
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Summary
This article reflects on the bittersweet experience of sorting through a parent’s belongings after loss, highlighting the emotional journey of letting go while cherishing memories. It captures the duality of grief and joy, emphasizing the importance of connection and remembrance.