As I stood in front of my late mother’s ornate china cabinet, filled to the brim with glass, silver, and crystal treasures, I couldn’t help but trace my fingers over an aging bowl. “This is an antique,” her soft voice echoed in my memory. “And this vase too,” she had said, her fingers fumbling slightly as she pointed out her prized possessions. “These are valuable. Just remember that when I’m no longer here.” Tears would gather in her eyes, making the reality of her illness all the more palpable. Her battle with cancer had taken its toll, reducing my vibrant foodie mom to someone who relied on a feeding tube for sustenance. I forced myself to maintain my composure, knowing that if I didn’t, we would both dissolve into tears. “I will remember, Mom,” I assured her.
But five long years after her passing, I find that I don’t recall what she wished for me to keep. I remember the worry on her face, the fear in her gaze, her frail body worn down by illness. I recall my heart racing, threatening to reveal the turmoil I felt inside. But the specifics of what she wanted me to hold on to have eluded me, leaving me paralyzed with uncertainty.
Since her death, I’ve been clinging to her belongings—her tattered recipe cards stained with memories of family dinners, her half-filled journals written in a beautiful cursive script, an extensive collection of animal figurines, her beloved gardening and birdwatching books, unsent letters, and an overwhelming amount of kitchenware collected over countless trips to Marshalls. All of it.
Her things lay untouched in the depths of her basement, providing an awkward comfort until I made the decision to sell her house. The task of sorting through her material legacy has been daunting, taxing, and at times, emotionally exhausting. I’ve laughed uncontrollably and found myself brought to my knees with grief. There seems to be no middle ground.
At moments, I resolved to keep everything, defiantly challenging anyone to question my choices. My wise friends remained silent. Other times, I enlisted my husband to help sift through her possessions, setting aside items that appeared significant. Ultimately, this was a journey I had to navigate alone.
It has been sheer chaos. As Mother’s Day approaches, I wrestle with the emotions of saying goodbye to her home and her belongings, all while missing her profoundly. I remind myself that her essence, love, and legacy transcend her material possessions. She wouldn’t want me weighed down by crystal candlesticks or old records. I hope she forgives me for not remembering which items she deemed most precious.
Instead, I cherish her memories. I think of her impeccable joke-telling skills, her infectious belly laugh, and how she would stop to help a frog cross the road, even when pressed for time. I remember her selflessness—offering her seat to a pregnant woman, even if she herself wasn’t well. I recall the late nights she spent creating homemade desserts for every bake sale supporting my teams. She taught me to approach life with an open heart and mind, and her creativity was unmatched.
Her hugs were unforgettable, her singing in the car with the sunroof open brought joy, and she cherished the simple act of mailing a card. I can still hear her Abba ringtone. I remember how she would hold my child’s hand before crossing the street, the mouthwatering taste of her eggplant parmesan, and her vivid stories that captivated us. I remember her dominating the kitchen counter during our Mother’s Day brunch preparations.
I pass down her lessons to my children, celebrating the wonderful woman she was rather than focusing on her possessions. Today, and every day, I choose to remember her.
As you navigate your own journey, if you’re seeking to expand your family, don’t forget to check out resources like American Pregnancy for guidance or explore options like the Cryobaby At-Home Insemination Kit for at-home insemination. And if you’re looking for tips to boost fertility, our post on fertility supplements has great advice.
In summary, letting go of material items can be a challenging yet necessary process. It’s important to remember that the love and memories we hold onto far outweigh the possessions that once represented them.
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