Letting Go
We’re going to Ireland in a few weeks. We’ll go to the house that my family has lived in for over 35 years. The reason for our trip is to have the ceremony where we will scatter my recently deceased brother’s ashes in the field in front of the house. It was only three years ago that we scattered my other brother’s ashes.
And we arrive in Ireland on the 14th anniversary of my father’s passing and his ashes are in the same field.
The large white stucco house sits on the hill, with the commanding view of the rolling pastures divided by stonewalls. It is the epitome of an Irish view. A farmer keeps his sheep in the field that’s just below our field with the ashes. It’s typically very windy there. So windy that planting any shrubbery or flowering trees is futile. My husband loves sleeping in that house in one of the front bedrooms because he loves the noisy sound of the sheep in the morning. And he loves looking out the window at the impossibly green view.
And in getting ready for our trip I need to find a house sitter. And knowing that I’m about to have a house sitter has me inspired to clean up parts of my house that have been unattended to, partially due to lack of interest to purge, coupled with grief.
I decided to tackle our master bedroom closet which houses piles and racks of linens and clothes that have not been touched in years. It’s embarrassing to say but I have a very hard time letting go of these things as they all have memories attached to them, Family memories. As my mother passed away when I was 14 I tend to have a hard time letting go. Some of these objects trigger memories of my teenage years and my 20s. I was a clothing designer and I have a few dozen dresses that I’ve made. I cannot fit in them anymore but I have a hard time letting go as if their existence proves my talents and validates my accomplishments.
Yesterday I started on the task. I dumped all of my folded shirts, my 50 or more scarfs, a few dozen pair of ripped and small blue jeans and whatever else was in the shelving section of our closet. It wasn’t hard to fill a 33-gallon trash bag full of clothes I could take to the Salvation Army. And then I made a pile of things that I will just shuffle to my studio because the fabric is still good, even if I do not like the garment. This was not really letting go of anything but at least it’s out of my closet.
I also was thinking about how sparsely my brother lived. His apartment in Denmark had exactly the necessary amount of things he needed. There was not one too many pair of socks or knives or rolls of tape. He was very adamant about having nothing unnecessary in his life. Not even unnecessary friends or unnecessary feelings. I feel so sloppy in comparison. Just sitting here looking at my desk with piles of notes and old business cards a brass lock that my friend brought back from Thailand sits next to an arrowhead I intended to give to my nephew and there are dried up pens in the pencil holder next to a beautiful embroidery piece of fabric I bought a few years ago that I will never use. There are memos on my bulletin board that have collected cobwebs.
Should I just compulsively throw it all away? There’s part of me that thinks that might be healthy but somehow I could never bring myself to do it, which leaves me with the thought, I’m making the cleaning up of our house after I pass away a very difficult task. I think it would be impossible for me to go to the extent of sparseness that was my brother’s style, but his minimal living certainly made an easy job of cleaning out his apartment after he died. When my brothers and sisters and I cleaned out our beloved aunt’s house I think we filled two or three huge dumpsters full of stuff. In going through all of her belongings it was like a life review, full of adventure and art and beauty. I guess there’s a happy medium between what my brother left and what my aunt left. Who am I to judge?
In taking a break from my purging exercise, I went to the grocery store. As I’m wheeling my cart to my car I see a little finger puppet on the wet pavement of the parking lot. It’s a very tastefully hand knit Green Caterpillar in metamorphosis becoming an orange butterfly. He even has the cutest little antenna in delicate beautiful brown wool. And then I realized that this is a finger puppet that a friend of mine who has an environmental nonprofit has made for him in South America. He gives these to schoolchildren to teach about saving rainforest. He’s a very generous friend and he’s a self-professed elf. I love him. He loves children. I smile accepting the gift he has just given me. I put the little finger puppet on my pinky. I immediately think I hope I see a little child and can give this puppet and make them smile, I know my friend would like that. I have to walk over to the pharmacy, which shares the parking lot with the grocery store. In the checkout line there’s a beautiful little girl with her father ahead of me. I think “I should keep the little puppet my friend gave it to ME,” Then I think, “it’s just one more thing to put in my house and I’m trying to get rid of things.” I have this little dialogue in my head of what should I do with this puppet, “Can I let go of it?” “Of course I should let go of it!” “ Hurry the girl is about to leave, make up your mind.” Almost regrettably I say to the little girl, “A friend of mine made this little puppet would you like it?” Her eyes light up, She is so happy to be gifted such a beautiful thing. Immediately she thanks me and complements me. She says I like your scarf and I like your hair. She wants to give me something in return.
Letting go of that little puppet inspires me to do a more thorough job in letting go of the material possessions (junk) in my house. The little puppet reminded me of my sweet Elf friend, and how he spends his life gifting. The little girl’s sweetness showed me the possibility and probability that in letting go you might be making room for getting something amazing in return.
