Thanks For The Memories?
“Sometimes the poorest man leaves his children the richest inheritance.”
I am always fascinated when I go into someone's home and it is filled with things they don't really love or use, but feel obligated to keep. Many times these items have been given as gifts or find their way to us when a family member dies.
This issue seems to be swirling around every one I have talked to lately. A newly married friend of mine was telling me that he and his wife had finally gotten all of the furniture he inherited from his grandparents out of their small home and into a storage unit. He seemed pleased that they were able to see their own, more contemporary furnishings once again. When I asked if they put the inherited items in storage for use in their future home, he looked puzzled. Ever since my friend was boy it had been dictated that the furniture would be his one day, so he never thought about whether he actually needed or wanted it. The truthful answer was no, he didn't want it. Now, the only pleasure he had gotten from it was watching it leave his home! What had been his grandmother's taste in furniture and her pride in ownership had suddenly become his burden to store and feel guilt and obligation over. So, which part of that is a gift?
Professionally, I see this all the time. I once had a client with two teenaged daughters who were forced to share a small bedroom because the other, larger bedroom was filled with her late parents' 5 piece bedroom set, their living room and dining room furniture. It was of average quality and was not in a style that complimented her home, nor did she particularly like any of it. When I inquired about getting rid of it, I discovered that my client had a strong belief that letting go of the furniture would get rid of the memory of her parents. In actuality, she was putting so much effort into preserving the past that she was not really present. She was unable to see the negative impact it was having on the lives of her children or how it was keeping her stuck in a place that didn't exist anymore. I can guarantee you that neither of those girls wants so much as a drawer from that furniture one day. I thought it was sad that she didn't trust her ability to access loving memories without a piece of furniture as the conduit.
I've often wondered if the sense of obligation people put into holding on to possessions has a direct correlation to their sense of fear about change. Perhaps having an obligation to "things" gives us an imaginary focal point, which allows us to deny the universal truth that nothing is permanent.
Inheriting isn't the only way we are saddled with things we don't want. The living, while usually full of good intention, can inadvertently overwhelm us with gifts and items deemed "must haves. Yet, unlike the deceased, we live with the fear that they will drop by and get offended if we are not prominently displaying that which they have given to us. So we live with houses full of things we really don't like or need. And resent having to maintain and care for them.
I recently had lunch with a friend and we were talking about this very subject. She was telling me how relieved she was now that her mother-in-law to stop giving her gifts for every occasion. My friend loves and respects her mother-in-law very much, but finding a place for years of gifts was bringing a sense of dread at birthday or holiday time. She decided it was not fair to get resentful over these gifts and it would be more truthful and loving to be frank with her mother -in-law. While it took every ounce of courage she could summon, she was relieved when her honesty was met by understanding. Now, there is no more charade of putting out gifts just before she arrives or dreading the "pop in" visit. Now they can just enjoy the gift of each others' company.
I have been blessed to not have the "obligation gene" instilled in me when it comes to possessions. I am sentimental about the people I love, my dogs and it is extended to a small number of treasures (like the 4 sticky notes on my bedpost- notes and drawings my son stuck there when he was a little boy). It is not that I take gifts lightly. In fact, just the opposite is true. I treasure the thoughtfulness and effort it took to think of me. That is the gift. Something given or left to one with expectation, obligation or strings attached is not a gift at all. Something kept without loving it or wanting it dishonors the intention of the giver.
One of my dearest friends on this planet is a classic Brit and she is much older than me. While on the subject of our own mortalities, she asked me what I would like when she dies. While her home is filled with beautiful antiques and paintings, I told her that I have gotten all that I will ever need to remember her in the form of her friendship, unconditional love and time spent together. I do not need a sideboard or an end table to remind me of that. I received a package a couple of weeks ago. In it was a simple silver frame holding a picture of Queen Elizabeth. This was always displayed prominently in my friends' home and it always made me laugh when I would visit her. I respect that she wants to leave me with a physical token and it sits on my desk and reminds me that I am loved and connects me to someone that is very special to me. I respect her thoughtfulness in giving me something that does not require a re-arrangement of my home, nor incurs a monthly storage fee.
If l had a dollar for every box of dishes, clothes or furniture I've seen clogging attics, basements and spilling out of closets, rd be a rich woman. Even things that are obligingly displayed always look like orphans that no one can quite figure out what to do with. So there they sit, until they become the next generations" burden.
Imagine the backbreaking effect of carrying around your "stuff” in this world and then heaping it on someone else's. How cruel! What if you sent some of that obligation back out in to the world for someone that really wants and loves it Imagine the relief that you would feel being released from these imaginary tethers and making room for what you really need.
