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Letting Go of Things

For me, cleaning out seems to be a process of letting go. That process includes the physical work of removal, the emotional work of detachment and the spiritual growth of renewal.

The attachments I hold to certain objects are palpable and have been a part of my life since I was young. At home we saved everything. We saved clothes to pass on, decorations for next year, and empty boxes for reuse. Born in the 1920’s, my parents grew up in Depression-era Brooklyn, New York where frugality was survival. They modeled the importance of thrift as they used and reused all they could afford to purchase.

As I clean out Paul’s closets and drawers, his workshop, and bicycles, I remind myself that I am only letting go of things. The spirit of Paul, my husband who died in May, will always be with me. This past week, I donated all of Paul’s bike equipment and supplies, including the shelves and bins in which he stored them, to the Bikes for Kids organization.

The Support Of Friends

Four volunteers came with a U-Haul truck to load the hundreds and hundreds of tires, tubes, pedals, seats, helmets, tools, and parts that Paul had accumulated in The Bike Guy ministry over the past seven years. Earlier the same day, Paul’s longtime friends, Winston and Don, came with a different lift-gate truck to take the shop equipment and supplies that Paul bestowed on Winston’s grandson Otto, who loves to work with his hands, and is a very mechanical teenager.

Having additional friends support me while loading trucks kept me from falling apart through this busy process. I felt joy fulfilling Paul’s wishes while giving new life to the things he loved.

Reflection has been a big part of my letting go. Early on, I was overwhelmed to a point of paralysis, not knowing where to begin. I could almost hear Paul’s voice say, “Why don’t you start by cleaning up your things.” A smile crossed my face as I had this moment of clarity. I went into the attic where many of my old paintings reside and started to clear them and the many boxes of used frames out. I put them out to the curb with a ‘Free’ sign. I also discarded an easel paint box and filled a bucket with the golf balls we used when we practiced at home. Odd things to put to the curb, but passersby gave them a new home, nonetheless.

A bin marked “Too Small but Save” was my next target in the attic. The need to let go of the ‘I’ll lose the weight and fit into these’ clothes was obvious. An old trunk, a garbage bag of old pillows and seat cushions that hadn’t been seen the light of day in years were the low-hanging fruit I brought to my church tag sale, which helped motivate me as I began to see progress.

Our house was built in 1970, and simplifying, purging the contents of the attic, then reinsulating, has been on our “to do list” for a while. I repurposed hollow core doors we just had replaced in the upstairs hallway by laying them left and right of center at the top of the pull-down attic stairs. That allowed me to organize the things I wanted to keep on a solid surface that was more easily accessible. Plastic bins made storage and organization of the things I wanted to keep easier. The bins stack easily. I used duct tape and a marker to label the bins. Making labels on either side of the bottom allowed me to use the same bin for winter and summer bulk items like bulky comforters and summer beach gear.

I don’t have to do it all at once.

Starting Small

I started small with Paul’s things. I kept the process slow. When the process became too emotional, I stopped for the day, embracing the grief that was helping me to grow. At first, I could only empty the contents of Paul’s night table into a bin. A bin that I put under the coffee table in the living room, where it sat, out of the way, for three weeks. Emptying the night table was enough for that day.

Photos and memorabilia seemed easiest. I was anxious to get his son and daughter, as well as our friends and family, the photos and small mementos he had saved. I cleared the dining room table to do this and made piles--for each of his children, his siblings, my family, and our friends. It was easy to see to which pile each picture belonged. The piles fit easily into a 5”x 8” Kraft envelope that I could mail with a note. Knowing I had enough for everyone made it easier to discard the duplicates and reclaim my puzzle table.

I found special homes with relatives and friends for the nicest of Paul’s wardrobe and gear. My church is currently hosting a collection for the homeless. The timing could not be more perfect. Paul would be very proud that his belongings were going to those in need. I didn’t know what I would do with things like his camping gear. I am thrilled that Paul’s sleeping bags and toiletry kits will find a welcome home.

As much as I have given away, there are still some things I am not yet ready to let go of. And that’s OK, too. As I tackled his dresser and closet, I put away his favorite bike jerseys, jacket, helmet, worn-out gloves, and rear-view mirror attached to his bike sunglasses into a new bin. I feel better being able to honor my own feelings by identifying when I am “ready.” I made the same decision about a few other of his effects. For now. It is a process.

The number of objects I have in my life is not a measure of who I am nor is it a measure of how much of Paul stays with me. I can easily confuse fear with sadness as I grasp onto objects as a salve. I have all that I need for today. Paul’s spirit continues to surround me and so many others close to us. The presence of his comforts me and guides me to seek the things that money can’t buy. Peace, serenity, kindness, faith, trust, hope, and most important, love.