Possessions and belongings

The distribution of your loved one's "stuff" can be so challenging.  I have been trying to do this gradually, because a friend once told me that when her mother died, she and her siblings had to empty the house very quickly and my friend now regrets getting rid of so many things.

My trouble is keeping too much.  I come from a family of "keepers", married one, and never seem to make the clean sweep that would gain me so much space.  One thing LeRoy used every day was his cane.  I have no use for it, others could benefit from a gift of it, but I just can't seem to get rid of it.  When I glance at it, I don't usually cry; I just remember his wonderful hands on it when he was still mobile enough to get around.

When my mother died, my sister was insistent about distributing her clothing immediately.  I wish now I had spoken up and requested a blouse or something, just for awhile, because clothing usually carries the fragrance? aroma? smell?  of the loved one.

So, many of LeRoy's pieces of clothing have been passed down or taken to our St. Vincent DePaul store, and of course the worn or stained things were thrown away.  I still have tons to take care of.  I guess that's one more instance of "one day at a time."  I make sure that I am often looking up.

Finally!  I'm home from California, and let me tell you.  Leaving that 80 degree climate was a tough assignment!  I'll be blogging more about that wonderful trip, but tonight I wanted to offer a hint that may be just what other grieving folks could do.

First, on Friday night, my daughter and several other family members attended a concert of Mannheim Steamroller.  My husband and I used to listen to their CD's from Thanksgiving to New Year's.  I knew that I would miss having him by my side, and I did, but somehow it seemed to honor his memory to show up, cry through a few favorites, and generally enjoy myself.  Some of their music is so gorgeous a person cries with pure joy anyway!  So I fit right in with the crowd.

Next, on Saturday, 22 members of the Biesheuvel family gathered in the home in which Leroy grew up.  Was there sadness?  Sometimes.  Was there joy?  Often.  I fumbled through the table grace because LeRoy always prayed.  I think it did me good to be thankful at that time, though, even if I broke down a bit.

We had old and young, tall and short, mostly loud and a few quiet folk.  It was SO reminiscent of the days LeRoy's mother would host such gatherings.  We did turkey, ham, and what seemed like 50 desserts.  All the trimmings.  All the fun.

As we sat in her cordial dining room, the ghosts did indeed make themselves known.  They were not scary ghosts, ugly and mean ghosts, but rather spirits of all the happy people who sat around that table.  I should mention that when LeRoy's mother sold that house, she sold it to my dad.  So it has been in our family a long, long time.  My children and grandchildren have memories of events with both sides of the family.

At LeRoy's funeral luncheon, several family members were having the usual conversation about "We really should get together for something besides funerals."  And so we did. 

I highly recommend it.  A mini family reunion can lift the spirit; in fact, we are hoping to do another in March.  Meanwhile, let us, especially in this season of extra thankfulness, keep looking up!