Treasured Trash
WHEN PEOPLE DISCUSS financial matters or take the ���A Year to Live��� class that I lead, there���s a common refrain: They don���t want to be a burden to their loved ones. They���re concerned about having enough money to take care of themselves when they���re older.
But even if we have plenty of money, we can still end up being a burden. How so? Our kids and other loved ones don���t want��the stuff we���ve gathered over the years. I was reminded of this recently when talking with some older friends about downsizing. For some, getting rid of beloved books, albums and paper records is like saying goodbye to long-held friendships. When we moved four years ago, we gave away more than 10 boxes of books. We still have too many.
I always ask people in my class what their five most precious possessions are, and what they plan to do with them when they���re gone. The good news: People typically hold memories much tighter than material things. The bad news: They usually have no idea who, if anyone, will want the material objects they love.
I���ve seen this up close. I was challenged and fortunate to take care of my dad when he went into home hospice care. The six weeks he thought he���d live turned into one year. I spent much of the year dealing with stuff that he and his late wife had accumulated. She was a collector, and had so many teddy bears and dolls that it was hard to get rid of them all.
When my dad died, I was grateful that the company that bought his mobile home promised to dispose of any items that remained. I have no idea where they donated the furniture and boxes of china I left behind, but I was relieved that I didn���t have to deal with them.
On the small altar in my office, there���s a handful of special keepsakes that have belonged to those I have loved. A ceramic Santa Claus my grandmother took out every year. The International House of Pancakes mug that we used to scatter most of my mom���s ashes, and which now contains eight ounces of her remains.
My favorite keepsake from my dad? A small coffee scoop I used to make his coffee each day when I took care of him during the last year of his life. When I use it each morning to make my coffee, I smile and remember that final year, and how lucky I was to share it with him so intimately.
I���m trying to dispose of as much of my stuff as I can, so my kids and other loved ones don���t have to do it when I���m gone. I hope my legacy can be a memory or a coffee scoop, not several trips to the dump.
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