When you die what happens to all your STUFF? A whole lifetime’s worth of memories – where do they go?
Into a skip mostly.
Husband’s family have been rallying around, clearing out his grandfather’s house. They’ve all taken away pieces of the place to remember him by. We’ve returned home with two cane chairs that sat beside the billiard table. When I look at those chairs I’ll always remember our Sunday visits, prawns for lunch, the kids stand in the family room, rolling billiard balls back and forth to their endless amusement.
I wrapped a few glasses in newspaper as well. Extra glasses always come in handy.
I found it wrenchingly sad to watch a man’s whole life being broken apart like that. But what else do you do?
The kids were far less sentimental – too young – so for them it was a delightful treasure trove to explore and scavenge.
Poppa was on the show circuit and needed crappy stuff to fulfill the promise of the sign he hung near his clowns and merchandise machines that said “every child wins a prize”. He never quite got around to giving out all those prizes so an old, boarded up shop on the edge of his property had been turned into a storage facility.
Shelf after shelf of trinkets for young and old: cufflinks, watches, clocks, keyrings, lipsticks, lipstick cases, metal horses, necklaces …
With the eldest’s Doctor Who party coming up, I had a good trawl myself. About the best I could come up with were plastic barbed wire bracelets. Surely there’s been barbed wire in Doctor Who at some point? And some necklace chains to hang the “Weeping Angel” wings that I’ve ordered from China (should they ever arrive).
The eldest collected loads of booty, the youngest didn’t quite get her head around “you can take whatever you want, it’s free”, which caused some consternation in the car on our way home as they compared loot.
As we sat on the red velvet couch – soon to be relocated to my sister in law’s house – having a cup of tea in the afternoon, odds and ends were paraded past in the hope of finding a new home. As an olive green chenille bedspread was waved at me, a powerful surge of nostalgia gripped me. I had an orange chenille bedspread as a kid, so I couldn’t resist. It’s quality too – $15 from Waltons. Husband shook his head in disbelief.
One day it will be my life being broken up and dispersed. And the Sprogs will be cursing me. The boxes and boxes of crap I’ve crammed into the attic that have slowly spread their way into the corner of the master bedroom as well. I’d imagine I’ll only get worse with age.
My parents had the right idea, they moved house a few years ago and ruthlessly cleared their stuff out then. Perhaps a little too ruthlessly – Mum’s had to end up repurchasing a few kitchen gadgets …
Oh, who am I kidding, it will still be a nightmare. It’s still a fully stocked three-bedroom house. My sister and I will have to fight over who gets THIS for example …
Such is life.
housegoeshome 
Sad, isn’t it? I just spent last week with my mum who is talking about ‘downsizing’. I just can’t see how she will be able to do it though. She has a 4 bedroom house full of stuff and keeps adding to it. Our old babysitter has just moved to Melbourne and I suggested having her over to see if there was any stuff that mum could sell to her to set up her own place but mum was not really keen, ie, said she could part with one arm chair but that was all. Can see who is going to end up cleaning out all the stuff.
Oh yes, I can see!
Reading this, I can only think of my mother’s “stuff”. I had to make so many decisions in such a hurry and I ended up calling Salvation Army to come get everything. I can’t tell you the time I’ve regretted that, but I keep telling myself that someone else got some special treasures.
My husband’s family are going through the same thing, they feel terrible about calling in a charity organisation to take away his stuff. But you’re right, there are too many decision to be made too fast.