Giving up and letting go of things we never even needed.
Words by Jan Hornick
Looking back in hindsight, I think I was inspired as I sat bewildered in the middle of my parent’s closet surrounded by well-worn clothes, mismatched shoes and boxes of Christmas cards from over 30 years ago. As we reluctantly took on the task of cleaning and sorting through my parent’s home after their sudden but anticipated move to long-term care, my brother and sister and I were overcome by all the stuff—what to do with it? How do we begin and where do we put it all?
Little by little, we began the daunting task. I must admit I was excited to see the bin arrive in the driveway—it was the catalyst to get on with the task at hand. Weekends were filled with sorting the stuff into “keep”, “give away”, “sell” or “remove” piles. We were careful to choose items designated for the bin as we knew their ultimate destination would be the local landfill site. My brother took on the role of “toxic waste disposer” and hauled off halfempty paint cans, old turpentine and too many insect zapping aerosols.
The room I feared the most was the one I knew I had to face alone— my father’s home office. Somewhere amongst the hundreds of post-it notes, the direct mail adverts and the stacks of paper were important documents, and I had to find them.
It’s a strange experience to be sorting through a parent’s personal items and belongings only to realize that most of the stuff was no longer really of any use to them. That was my “aha” moment. Because it wasn’t just their stuff I was soon to focus on, but my own.
Decisions had to be made quickly as we had committed to a small renovation to get the house ready for sale. The d?cor was tired, the carpet worn and appliances needed replacement. We quickly filled the bin and made many a trip to the local charity outlet. We divided things amongst us on the spot.
The realtor we had hired to sell the home also worked closely with a staging/renovating company which specializes in dealing with downsizing and helping people get their home “market ready” in order to maximize the equity. Painting, new flooring, granite countertops, and staging were all part of something called a “refresh.”
Three weeks later, all the work was complete, on time and on budget. A very worthwhile investment indeed and well worth considering for anyone thinking about a move.
There are many of these companies to choose from (it’s a growing niche market as baby boomers reach retirement age and look at downsizing). Check with your realtor for recommendations—they may already work together with a downsizing/staging professional. Many realtors themselves now have a CSP or “Certified Staging Professional” designation and others have been trained as Seniors Real Estate Specialists (SRES) who have been specially trained to assist seniors. There are also moving management companies that offer downsizing assistance, some of whom specialize in senior moving—a particularly helpful service for older adults who may need extra help with sorting, packing, and making their move as easy and stress free as possible.
Within a month, the house was sold. Relief! At least on the financial front.
But what about all the stuff that was still there? We knew we had a long way to go.
Most of the “questionable” stuff had been temporarily stashed away in a storage room off the family room. This had been very convenient earlier on as we focused on the more obvious knicknacks and assorted decorative items. Our realtor suggested that by packing and storing away a lot of items, potential buyers would see how serious we were about selling; strategic thinking on his part.
As my brother and sister and I once again spent weekends together to finish the final sorting and make decisions about where pieces of furniture should go, what to do with family heirlooms and old reel-to-reel tapes of us as children, even income tax files dating back to the early 1950’s, we felt a sense of sadness and loss. At the same time, we enjoyed reminiscing together, laughing and crying at old pictures and memorabilia. My brother found the long-forgotten diary he kept as a child. Some things, of course, are important to keep but we had to make tough decisions and chose to donate many items.
We also felt a sense of urgency to deal with all the stuff. Closing date was fast approaching. New people were moving into the family home and their things would soon be arriving.
The whole process affected each of us. For me, it got me thinking about stuff, my stuff. My initial revelation in my parent’s closet brought me to consider my own closet, my own accumulation of things I not only don’t need, but now no longer want.
It’s got to do with discovering a new sense of lightness, a sort of rejuvenation and carrying a lighter load. Believe me, it was exhilarating to finally be free of that expensive, over-the-top 1980’s trench coat. It weighed me down then and continued to do so just hanging there all these years.
I am on a mission now. Of course I still want things, but I’m consciously trying to choose only things that have some meaning to me.
Beyond the utilitarian necessities, I want to pick my purchases wisely, both in terms of aesthetic appeal and durability but also in my growing interest in evaluating the reasons behind my purchases. “Do I really need it?” I ask myself. Most often, the answer is “no.”
“I want it”, my inner voice tells me. But why? And that is the question I’m now addressing. I am reminded of a recent book by author Annie Leonard, “The Story of Stuff”, which is also an internet film at www.storyofstuff.com/film.php.
Although the author hails from the States, the message certainly holds water here. It’s an informative read (and film) about the impact of our ongoing quest to acquire more stuff.
It’s fairly recent, this rush of ours to acquire. Not so long ago, our expectations were much lower.
Leonard writes that in the 1950’s before the age of mass consumerism, people rated the highest on the “happiness” scale, a level that has never been reached since. As we work longer and harder to make more money to buy more stuff and purchase bigger homes to house all the stuff, we pay a price on many levels—in our personal lives, as a community, and globally. Clearly, our acquisition of stuff just doesn’t seem to do it for many of us anymore, if it ever really did.
It was with some degree of trepidation that we first walked through the door of the family home after the “refresh”. We were afraid that maybe with some of the “stuff” now gone, our own memories would somehow be compromised. Although the home was no longer filled with all the familiar things we had known for so long, we realized the “stuff of memories” is really about the people you love and care about, not the stuff itself.
I will continue with this “refresh” not only in the literal sense (although I would not say no to a new kitchen!), but on a more personal level. I am committed now to paring down, to finding creative ways to repurpose things I’d like to keep and give away items I no longer want. And it feels good, concentrating on the things that really matter— family, friends and re-focusing my priorities.
When I visit my parents now, each in their own totally new environments devoid of all of the stuff acquired over a lifetime, I realize the most important thing they really need and want is us—my sister, my brother and myself. Nothing more.