I am cleaning out Dad’s room. And moving on.
I spent the better part of last Friday and about 3 hours today cleaning out 10 years worth of stuff. I was somewhat surprised to learn that my father was a bit of a hoarder. A neat hoarder, but a hoarder none-the-less. I am finding amazing things as I clean out and dig through. Over 2 dozen decks of playing cards. Maybe he was thinking of opening his own casino. Enough scrap paper to wallpaper a room. A really big room. Property tax and water bills from the house we sold. In 2002. Alot of this stuff is ending up in large black garbage bags earmarked “dumpster”.
And then I stop and think. Really? When he was saving this stuff, did he really want it to end up in the dumpster? Well, of course not, but what am I going to do with 50 or 60 notepads of scrap paper? And how much stuff can I save to honor his memory without making a clutter disaster in my own home? And then the little voices in my head (yes I have more than one) start to argue. Yes, I need to save stuff because its his! No, I need to toss stuff because I am already overwhelmed by the task at hand! And finally…am I being a bad daughter and a thoughtless person because I don’t want anymore stuff to clutter up my house? Is that selfish?
Then I calm down and start to think. Not saving his worn out comforter or his 12 shoe horns doesn’t make me a bad daughter, or a bad person either. Because his legacy is not in his stuff. Its in his memories and in a life well lived.
So I pick a few precious things. The suncatchers from his window. The small prayer and psalm books he read. The”dad” statue I gave him 38 years ago. A box of his medals and memorobilia from the war.
And the other stuff? Well…it didn’t all go into the dumpster. My Dad was a very charitable man, and I am keeping that tradition alive. 4 bags of clothing went to some people in dire need. The books went to the library. The toiletries are going to the food pantry at church. The glasses are going to the Lion’s club. And on and on and on….
I am moving on. I miss my dad, and I will for a very long time. In fact, I will always miss him, and my mom, too. But when I see a little memory of either one of them, it makes me happy. If I was looking at a big pile of clutter, it would make me sad. And I will pick happy over sad anyday.