By Ashley Look
The conversation you’re not having but need to is the one about your parents stuff. What are you going to do with their things? What items are considered keepsakes? What can be donated? How much of the decision should be your responsibility and to what extent will it be worth your time? Here is a gentle nudge to help you begin one of the most important discussion you might ever have with your folks.
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Paper acknowledging and family heirloom that was lost due to my mother’s Alzheimer’s Disease.
About four months into my caregiver journey I came across this piece of paper in my parents house. Its discovery was painful for so many reason. For one, my mother no longer remembered me. The Alzheimer’s had erased her memory and she no longer recognized me as her daughter. In addition to that cruelty was another sense of loss. The paper was loose. Attached to some token at one point but in discovery, it was merely scrap. Whatever treasure was to be passed down for progeny remains a mystery. The “family heirloom” in my mind is now the paper itself. It’s a modicum of memory thanks to the handwriting; her handwriting, and the awareness that the intent of posterity was cloaked in a mother’s love. I wish I knew what the heirloom was but that piece of paper has become my keepsake.
“Family Heirloom for Ashley Look 10/31/88”
Being thrust into the intense world of caregiving when I was just beginning to understand adulthood, forced me to explore the “value” of things. I was tasked with downsizing our family home (see photos here) and overwhelmed by the decision-making process. Sentimental value can be found in just about any item that sparks a memory and no amount of reading KonMari books will make that magically disappear. Determining worth is discriminatory and decision includes moral hazard. Over the course of my family purge I questioned if I was making mistakes. Would I regret my decisions and later be haunted by the legacy of items no longer in my possession? Without sound guidance from my parents (my father was also suffering from dementia at the time), I was required to sift through their belongings using equal parts Ebay, personal judgement, and observations from weekly garbage days when a neighborhood truck would make the rounds picking up items left out for the trash.
Fast forward a few years and the house has been reclaimed from under the mountain of stuff, much of which was in fact trash. I saved a number of things that were obvious keepsakes and a few less than obvious treasures like the scrap paper above. But mostly I’ve held on to an awareness that the stuff we allow into our space deserves our honor and warrants the right to occupy our attention or time. Stuff is stuff, yet materialism, although fun in a moment, is often a headache later, especially when clouded by sentimentality.
I’ve thought long and hard about lineage and legacy, and the antiquity of our belongings. I’ve often wondered what I’d save of my own belongings if the house was burning down. As a “maker” my mind goes to my spoons. I’d save my work from becoming fuel as these are the things that are my legacy. They are the investments of my labor, my craftsmanship, and time represented in hand. Upon my death my Will might include a beneficiary for the spoons. They are perhaps my most important material items and why right now, I feel moved to right this. Yesterday, I lost one.
My most beloved, hand carved, Applewood spoon that I carved on a farm in Vermont which became the cornerstone of my personal brand and business. It would have been my offering as a family heirloom to the generations that follow.
If I was to leave behind a single heirloom from my life it would be/would have been this spoon. It’s on my business card, it’s my logo, it’s the only one I have refused to sell. It’s made of Applewood from an orchard in Vermont and was carved on the land where I first learned how to spoon carve, a practice that has since become my therapy. Unfortunately it took a tumble yesterday, and broke right at the neck. My brother accidentally bumped the display while moving a shelf (part of the endless house downsizing project) and in that moment knew he had destroyed something of value. Before I even knew what had happened he was alarmed with concern, approaching me with hesitation and repeating “You’re gonna kill me.” Of all the spoons to break, it was my most favorite, the one that represents so much to me…
The heart breaking remains of my most beloved personal treasure. The Applewood spoon which I personally hand carved, took a tumble and broke into two pieces right at the neck.
But of course, stuff is just stuff, and the irony lingers like a cruel reminder that loss and grief are inescapable even after you’ve made your peace. This broken spoon feels like a death in that family which I suspect many won’t understand. But losing the thing that supported me through losing my family hurts, even if it’s an inanimate object. It’s not the spoon but what the spoon represented, and the emotional relationship between hand and craft varies little from the relationship between my parents and their end of life care. It was a very long and grueling, emotional journey and I owe my sanity to spoon carving. Caregiving and end of life care are journeys of the heart, as are stories of birth. This spoon was a beginning and it’s painful to see its end.
I’ve been working on some service related content for this website. I created something for caregivers knowing they are struggling with minimal support. I’ve also created a service for posterity knowing all too well that loved ones are ephemeral. I’ve also been working towards an online spoon carving course and for whatever reason, I can’t seem to finish it. In part I think that’s because spoon carving is my self-care and so many wounds remain fresh. It’s difficult to discuss how to carve spoons when the why feels more important. How do I convey the how of “healing” when grief runs eternal? Stay tuned however because I do plan to complete it. At the heart of any spoon is the bowl, and the stress in what it carries is the neck. The irony is the reminder that it’s time to get back to it, keeping a handle on the chaos of time…
I know I can glue this spoon. It’s not the end of the world. But long story short, not everything that breaks can be fixed. Life and loss are tough pills to swallow and I’m tired of the cultural expectation to choke hardship down gracefully. It’s OK to be sad. It’s OK to be angry… It’s OK to not be OK, with or without an excuse. Feelings aren’t always rational and it’s far time we recognize that our pains are valid regardless of how they measure in comparison. Our struggles are not competitions so let’s stop pretending to keep it together because it makes others feel more comfortable. Life and loss are uncomfortable and moving on quickly enables culture to dismiss the legacies of the ones that left too soon. We should honor them with pause and revel in what remains. Heirlooms are like the architecture of one’s memory. Items aren’t special because of what they are but who they represent…
Rest in peace you heavy hearts. Rest up and take love!
Almost 20 years after I moved out, this is what became of my childhood bedroom.
Hey there!
June and I are back with some tips for downsizing seniors. This is actually much easier said than done and I can say this with certainty as I've now spent the last three years bringing a sense of order to the house I grew-up in. It was never the most organized of homes but as my parents health declined, the house grew further and further from any sense of security. Their slide into dementia and Alzheimer's was increasingly complicated by the sheer presence of stuff.
Stuff I realize is often a sore subject. Those that have it, struggle getting rid of it and those that inherit it feel burdened by the responsibility of managing it. Seniors and youth often find themselves at odds. Arguments about the value of antiques and heirlooms need to be measured alongside the expense of missed work, cost of storage, and the cost of transportation. It's not that the youth of today value low quality items made in China or whatever the case may be, but rather the youth of today are in fact working and providing for their own families and have purchased their own belongings as time and means allowed. As any generation with the privileged to afford goods, they purchase items that speak to them with regard to their personal taste, budget, and space. The assumption that items will be passed on and swapped out can belittle the hard work one took to establish their own household and I encourage seniors to pause before assuming younger generations will want their wares. I would also encourage younger generations to ask questions and learn the history behind family belongings as many items are valuable because of their stories.
Part storage, part childhood...
Needless to say, "stuff" is a complicated subject for families and June from Rise Up for Caregivers is here with a handful of tips to help give the process of downsizing some momentum. Read hers below and please share any you have discovered. Decluttering and downsizing can be a massive undertaking so please don't hold back on suggestions!
For seniors, there are plenty of reasons to need to downsize - you’re moving to a smaller home, moving to an assisted living community, decluttering to make aging in place easier, or simply because you want to get rid of some things and streamline your life. Whatever the reason, it’s never a pleasant task to begin, however, the results are usually rewarding. Here are some tips to make it more manageable.
This is a trick to figure out exactly what you use and what you don’t. If you have a month or two to spare (before a move, for instance), pack up like items into boxes. Put all of your kitchen gadgets, electronic gadgets, and other gadget-like items in their own boxes. Now, over the course of the next couple of months, take out the items as you need them. What’s left in the box after a few weeks are items you probably don’t need. Do note, this works best for “useable” items. There are plenty of things that you won’t “use” in the course of a month that you still want to keep like photos, jewelry, and other sentimental items.
When it comes to books, DVDs, CDs, and other types of collections, we can amass more than we know what to do with by the time we are seniors. One way to make downsizing these collections easier is to institute a one in, one out rule. For every one you keep, throw one out (or donate it).
This tip is crucial if you’re moving to a retirement community, where you’ll have significantly less living and storage space. Have a loved one go to your new space and measure everything - closets included. Make a quick sketch of the floor plan and then get to work planning where everything will go. Once you have a place for everything you truly need in your new retirement community space, it’ll be easier to part with the stuff that simply cannot fit.
Downsizing is about getting rid of physical items to unburden yourself and create more space, but that doesn’t mean you have to get rid of memories. Use internet storage to your advantage. If you have a bunch of old photo albums or scrapbooks, think about scanning these images into a computer and uploading them to an online photo storage site (here are some of the best). If you have other keepsakes and mementos, take photos of them and get rid of the physical item. This will allow you to keep the memory, but ditch the bulky items. More on downsizing your photo collections here.
When deciding what to keep, what to throw away, and what to donate, you should make those decisions as you pack and organize. Ditch the “maybe” pile. If you allow yourself the option of not making a decision on an item, you’re much more likely to keep it later on. If you truly want to downsize, you have to make hard choices as you go.
Downsizing is always going to be stressful. For many, it can be downright emotional. Getting rid of possessions is never going to be easy, but it’s vital if you’re moving to a smaller living space or simply want to declutter your life to give yourself more independence. Start early, give yourself time to organize, make tough decisions as you go, and don’t be afraid to get rid of duplicate items. In the end, you may find that you feel better - or at least less burdened - after you rid yourself of all that physical baggage.
Stuff just hanging out in the dinning room. It wasn't just a matter of what to do with the stuff. I had to to first assess what the stuff even was!
Ok, now its your turn! Please comment below with thoughts and suggestions or any best practices you have on this topic. I personally find it overwhelming and as you can tell from the pictures above I have many thoughts on this subject. So many in fact I found it hard to capture my thoughts and needed to pull June in to help us get the conversation going. Let's here your suggestions! I'll add some of my own thoughts in the comments and we'll see where the topic goes.