This resonated and took me back 4 years ago. 2 gen Xers, my husband and his brother cleaning up their childhood home. A month after my FIL had passed away suddenly, barely a year after their mom had succumbed to cancer. I also had to chip in some days.
We found notes and letters they had written to each other secreted away, in little purses( my MIL's) and old diaries( FIL's). Some we kept, others we shredded.
Most of the usable stuff we tried to give to people and places which could use them.And then watched the haulers taking rest of their childhood away.
So many of us with the haulers! I am not buying anything more unless I love it! And off-topic I would love to connect with you. I am fascinated with how this is playing out in India. Would you be game?
My heart. I have not lost yet but reading of your grief I hope for something as thoughtful and healing to happen for my sister and I when our turn comes. My love for James has grown with this sweet story too. How lucky you are to have someone who understands it as only the two of you can.
Thank you for such beautiful and heartfelt piece. I felt every single word. Having lost my mom and father law recently I felt deeply your words. I smiled at your joke - if you ever want to see things get done, hand it to a couple of over-functioning Gen X’s with nowhere to focus their fresh grief. (I keep making this joke to people, trying to find someone who gets it). I get it big time. I saw/see that in myself, and still see in my husband. You got to keep busy, the flood of emotions that are waiting to be dealt with is just too much.
Thank you Ann-Marie for sharing the loss. Your words are beautiful and heartfelt. I feel what you are feeling. Losing someone you love can change your world.
This is so eloquently heart-breaking and true. The treasure that is the recording of plunking the keys. I could hug him.
I send my daughter a note this week giving her permission to not feel the need to keep any of my things. Only that which speak to her. Toss them. Have a sale.
I found two more boxes of books to unpack into my overstuffed and much downsized new office.
Because I help folks with grief in the world, I thought I would put practice in play and tell her my end of life wishes for my stuff. She just turned the age I was when my Mom died suddenly. We had never had such talks.
Thank you for this peek into grief. I miss your dad with you and for you. And the piano too.
I tossed an old cookbook my Mom and Dad worked on as a fundraiser in 1972. I asked my sister permission to toss it. I took a photo of my dad being thanked for the production. Another of her chopped liver recipe. The stuff of life.
You didn't want to make chopped liver? LOL. Thank you so much for this comment, and I am thrilled you had this conversation with your daughter. So many of my mom's boxes and writings had "I saved this for Ann Marie" etc and it was just torture not saving them. If I didn't live overseas I know my basement would be stacked. Still, I have her nursing cap and some other things I just could not throw. We will figure it out eventually. You do good work Barri x
What a beautifully written, poignant piece! Certainly losing one's loved ones is heartbreaking, but sometimes parting with some thing that has accompanied us as we have grown up can be as painful--for you the piano, for me, my 22 year-old Toyota and a 30+-year old Kenmore fridge (neither ever broke down).
Leslie - I get it! And if they were things that were hard to buy it's even harder, you know what I mean? I still have that feeling sometimes that I can't afford anything.
This is as heartfelt and as *boom* as it gets. I get it to my bones.
Even though I haven't yet experienced either of my parents passing.
Even though, when they go, I don't know if I'll notice since we're not that close.
Even though, when my Mom passes, we'll likely have to hire a literal demolition crew instead of emptying out the house, to "clean up" the hoarding mess that she's created.
Midlife is full of deep grokking and huge choices and things you do because you have to do them. And pivots and slow-downs and other things I have no words for.
Thank you for this. When my mom passes, I will have to figure out the piano, too.
This is one of the most beautiful, heartbreaking things I have ever read. Thank you for putting words to something so indescribable and doing it with such searching poignancy. No doubt you felt it all over in writing it. The slipper on the stair and the Wordsworth quote and the beautiful, fractured piano are a knife to the heart. It is just 'stuff', but it is so much more and tells a thousand stories. Your parents couldn't have asked for a more fitting tribute, Ann Marie. Love xxx
I'm so sorry for your loss, Ann Marie. I know the feelings you describe well. There is just nothing like the guilt and (if I'm honest, shame) that I felt when I watched the dumpster containing 50 years' worth of stuff from my parents house roll off. I know there were things in there worth saving, but where to keep them? And when you are working against the clock, well... It's just awful, and I think about it every single day.
Hi Dalene - I'm late to reply but I really appreciated hearing from someone else who understands the dumpster feeling. It's just awful. But what else could we do? So many of us, with the same feeling x
Oh sweetie, you broke my broken heart open again! Sorting out 'the stuff' is truly warrior-level grief work. Both my mother and my partner's mother (who lived with us) have died recently, and I've been with both of them at the end (and I've written about both of them on my Substack). And although I/we have had to deal with a lot of the their 'stuff'... it wasn't either of our childhood homes... those were long gone (a few marriages ago for my mother; several house moves ago for my partner)... but that's the big grief guns. Hugs to your brother too for those final chords. xxx
I just love you, Ann Marie.
It's mutual.
Oh gosh, Ann Marie, this is so poignant and beautifully written. I'm so sorry for your losses. I'm sending you so much love x
Thank you so much Andrea...
Heart felt words
This resonated and took me back 4 years ago. 2 gen Xers, my husband and his brother cleaning up their childhood home. A month after my FIL had passed away suddenly, barely a year after their mom had succumbed to cancer. I also had to chip in some days.
We found notes and letters they had written to each other secreted away, in little purses( my MIL's) and old diaries( FIL's). Some we kept, others we shredded.
Most of the usable stuff we tried to give to people and places which could use them.And then watched the haulers taking rest of their childhood away.
So many of us with the haulers! I am not buying anything more unless I love it! And off-topic I would love to connect with you. I am fascinated with how this is playing out in India. Would you be game?
I would love to exchange views.
Please feel free to reach out to me - mail: svrvcsvr@gmail.com
Love you Ann Marie. You are inspiring... the water guy
My heart. I have not lost yet but reading of your grief I hope for something as thoughtful and healing to happen for my sister and I when our turn comes. My love for James has grown with this sweet story too. How lucky you are to have someone who understands it as only the two of you can.
My friend. So many beautiful things in the sad things. Sorry I am replying so late AMx
My heart goes out to you Ann-Marie. Thanks for sharing this, it's beautifully written.
Thank you Elisabeth x
Thank you for such beautiful and heartfelt piece. I felt every single word. Having lost my mom and father law recently I felt deeply your words. I smiled at your joke - if you ever want to see things get done, hand it to a couple of over-functioning Gen X’s with nowhere to focus their fresh grief. (I keep making this joke to people, trying to find someone who gets it). I get it big time. I saw/see that in myself, and still see in my husband. You got to keep busy, the flood of emotions that are waiting to be dealt with is just too much.
We are all the over functioning generation! Thanks for these words Marina. x
Thank you Ann-Marie for sharing the loss. Your words are beautiful and heartfelt. I feel what you are feeling. Losing someone you love can change your world.
It really does. Thanks so much x
This is so eloquently heart-breaking and true. The treasure that is the recording of plunking the keys. I could hug him.
I send my daughter a note this week giving her permission to not feel the need to keep any of my things. Only that which speak to her. Toss them. Have a sale.
I found two more boxes of books to unpack into my overstuffed and much downsized new office.
Because I help folks with grief in the world, I thought I would put practice in play and tell her my end of life wishes for my stuff. She just turned the age I was when my Mom died suddenly. We had never had such talks.
Thank you for this peek into grief. I miss your dad with you and for you. And the piano too.
I tossed an old cookbook my Mom and Dad worked on as a fundraiser in 1972. I asked my sister permission to toss it. I took a photo of my dad being thanked for the production. Another of her chopped liver recipe. The stuff of life.
You didn't want to make chopped liver? LOL. Thank you so much for this comment, and I am thrilled you had this conversation with your daughter. So many of my mom's boxes and writings had "I saved this for Ann Marie" etc and it was just torture not saving them. If I didn't live overseas I know my basement would be stacked. Still, I have her nursing cap and some other things I just could not throw. We will figure it out eventually. You do good work Barri x
So beautiful, Ann Marie. Thank you for your words and humanity.
What a beautifully written, poignant piece! Certainly losing one's loved ones is heartbreaking, but sometimes parting with some thing that has accompanied us as we have grown up can be as painful--for you the piano, for me, my 22 year-old Toyota and a 30+-year old Kenmore fridge (neither ever broke down).
Leslie - I get it! And if they were things that were hard to buy it's even harder, you know what I mean? I still have that feeling sometimes that I can't afford anything.
This is as heartfelt and as *boom* as it gets. I get it to my bones.
Even though I haven't yet experienced either of my parents passing.
Even though, when they go, I don't know if I'll notice since we're not that close.
Even though, when my Mom passes, we'll likely have to hire a literal demolition crew instead of emptying out the house, to "clean up" the hoarding mess that she's created.
Midlife is full of deep grokking and huge choices and things you do because you have to do them. And pivots and slow-downs and other things I have no words for.
Thank you for this. When my mom passes, I will have to figure out the piano, too.
This is one of the most beautiful, heartbreaking things I have ever read. Thank you for putting words to something so indescribable and doing it with such searching poignancy. No doubt you felt it all over in writing it. The slipper on the stair and the Wordsworth quote and the beautiful, fractured piano are a knife to the heart. It is just 'stuff', but it is so much more and tells a thousand stories. Your parents couldn't have asked for a more fitting tribute, Ann Marie. Love xxx
I'm so sorry for your loss, Ann Marie. I know the feelings you describe well. There is just nothing like the guilt and (if I'm honest, shame) that I felt when I watched the dumpster containing 50 years' worth of stuff from my parents house roll off. I know there were things in there worth saving, but where to keep them? And when you are working against the clock, well... It's just awful, and I think about it every single day.
Hi Dalene - I'm late to reply but I really appreciated hearing from someone else who understands the dumpster feeling. It's just awful. But what else could we do? So many of us, with the same feeling x
Oh sweetie, you broke my broken heart open again! Sorting out 'the stuff' is truly warrior-level grief work. Both my mother and my partner's mother (who lived with us) have died recently, and I've been with both of them at the end (and I've written about both of them on my Substack). And although I/we have had to deal with a lot of the their 'stuff'... it wasn't either of our childhood homes... those were long gone (a few marriages ago for my mother; several house moves ago for my partner)... but that's the big grief guns. Hugs to your brother too for those final chords. xxx
This is so beautiful, and resonates deeply.