Sunday, August 13, 2017

Clearing out stuff

One of the parts of my widower status that I've liked least of all is clearing out Amy's 'stuff'. 'Stuff' has got a broad definition from hats and shoes to photos and ornaments.

I'm a member of a couple of on-line widow/widower groups and it is a common theme that comes up on the discussions that people in my situation have. People have differing approaches; from clearing everything all out straight away - 'a fresh start' if you will, to putting everything in boxes and putting it in storage.

I must admit I've been pretty slack, driven in part by laziness (as well as the constant demands put on me by an active 8 and 9 year old) but also because every item I find, every shoe, hat, glove, lip-balm of Amy's that I find seems to carry with it some kind of sentimental attachment. Ridiculously even old jotted notes and shopping lists which I know can never be replaced. It's not helped by the fact that I'm a bit of a hoarder at heart anyway(!)

I did a (very small) spring clean today and cleared out assorted clutter from the house. I chucked out a few bags of outgrown childrens' clothes, an work old suit of mine which I hadn't worn in years and reluctantly made space in the cupboard which holds our coats by sending one of Amy's old jackets to a charity shop.

As I folded the thick black coat into the bag I could remember Amy wearing it and I almost put it back on the hanger, there were a couple of bits and pieces in the pocket, a button and an unused hankie. I could find every reason to hold onto it - perhaps Audrey would like it when she's older?

In the end I was able to let go. In truth it was an old coat, not even one of Amy's favourites. If she'd have been around I suspect Amy would have tossed it out without a second thought. It'll go to someone who needs it, keep someone warm from Canberra's chill, someone unaware of why such a nice coat should end up in charity shop.

In part I guess it's the feeling, the knowledge that Amy won't be coming back to wear the coat again and the memories that possessions hold.

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