Getting to "later": Words matter (stuff not so much).

When you're packing up a house after a death, it's a frenzied rush. You're devestated by the loss but you're also overwhelmed being you had not mentally prepared to pack. In your head you just need to get to the finish line (i.e. get all the darn "stuff" packed up). There is just so much thrown at you and it's just one REALLY big action point on your REALLY long list of action points.

Some people are afforded going through all items one-by-one and "ooh-ing" and "aah-ing" over every little thing. I envy those people. My sister and I kept a lot but we had to be really focused on packing...and work to keep emotion at a remove...because there was just so much between us and that finish line. Mom lived in an apartment so we literally needed to clear out the place. I think we ended up keeping about twenty big boxes of "stuff".

Sure, my sister and I knew of some "special things" we wanted to keep right off the bat. For example, Mom had a beautiful vintage quilt that was important to my sister while I fancied this special miniature carnival horse made from clay (I used to take it from my mom's room and put it in mine. It made her angry and made her giggle :-).

But, the endless drawers filled with papers, cards, notes and records? Oy. We just poured all of those into boxes mentally labeled "later." We had no time or energy for "later." We certainly wouldn't throw that stuff away but we needed to get to that finish line and those silly items could just wait since they didn't need bubble wrap. After all, they were just worthless paper that required attention at a later date. Maybe there was a statement or a policy we would need. But we didn't need those items until later.

Last Tuesday I received A LOT of boxes. It was time to unpack. Once again, I was handed yet another finish line I needed to get to...this time in New York City. And once again, I left the "later" boxes until last knowing it would take a lot of time to go through all those silly pieces of paper. I first needed to put away various categories of "stuff" like jewelry, special dresses, knick-knacks, towels and kitchen pieces. You know, the important items. And I needed to ensure that carnival horse made it in one piece (it did).

So, come Sunday, April 16th, it was finally time for "later." Oy. All those darn pieces of paper standing between me and my finish line. But something really special happened on the way to later. In those boxes I found THE most important thing I'll ever receive from my momma. Damn if that sentimental woman didn't save every single card that Melissa and I had ever sent her. Every single one. And this is a woman who has moved--no lie--at least twenty times in her life across many states. She hauled those words across states including AL, MA, VA and NJ. Really a feat by her to ensure she always had our words, actually.

That pic above is a smattering of the cards I sent my momma over the years. While I have many of those she sent to me...it's the ones that I sent her that have been the single greatest healing practice for me. Let me say that again: it's the words that I sent her that have given me such joy as I get to re-live the joy I gave her starting from about age 3 until present day in my 30s. While each card talks about different current events, boyfriends, college exams, new jobs and crises there are two themes present in every letter: thanking her for supporting me and telling her how much I loved her. Ironically, this is a level of relief that I can't adequately put into words.

Quilts and special carnival horses aside, if I could only get one thing from mom's estate it's these letters. I'm sure a lot of people read letters FROM their loved ones. I advocate reading the letters you sent TO them. I've not yet seen this practice detailed in grieving books but I tell you, it's the best thing one can do. Well, I should say the best thing I've done as grief is different for everybody. And I'll read these throughout my life.

What's the takeaway? Words. Words are important; stuff not so much. In our professional lives words are a testament to our beliefs, passion, ethics and expertise. In our personal lives they're a testament to our feelings. Insofar as social media? I come to value this medium even more because we have a permanent record of all our words. Momma kept my words and, lucky for us, search engines and software keep ours. So we'll always have that "later" box to refer to when we need it. And believe me, whether to reflect, find a resource or, even mourn, we'll someday need those words more than anything else.

While it was always known I wouldn't be getting any big estate or inheritance (not that I care) I feel that I have. These cards are my true inheritance. If there were one thing I'd reach for in case of fire, it would be these cards.

What am I really excited about? I have a TON of letters my sister sent my mother...and I get to hand deliver them to her soon (that's a sampling of Melissa's letters to mom in the third picture). So she'll be getting the inheritance of her words to her mom, too. I didn't read them, those are only for my sister (and my momma).

I'm glad I waited until "later" to take the time to go through this gift. As it happens, later came at precisely the right time. And yeah, I now get to "ooh" and "aah" over each letter.

Comments

[melissa]

Sister-Pie, That was a touching testament to our mother and how much we love her. --Melissa

[David Reich]

Beautiful, CK. You're right that usually we'll re-read cards and letters loves one have sent to us, but not the words we've sent to them. You are fortunate that you have these written reminders of feelings and thoughts shared with your momma.

Words are so important. I feel sorry for people who say "He (or she) knows I love them" rather than actually saying those words out loud to the person. I know this is especially true for many men, who are often taught to keep their feelings inside. I always told my father I loved him, and I never hesitated to kiss him hello or goodbye, even in front of other people. When he died, I had no regrets about words never said. We both knew how much we loved each other, because we told each other out loud.

Words are important -- written and spoken.

Especially words of love.

[Drew McLellan]

CK,

I suspect that you haven't seen the advice "read the words you wrote" because sadly, most people don't.

If they send a card at all, they scrawl their name at the bottom and call it a day. Few will take the time to weave their history into a series of cards, filled with stories, affection and gratitude.

You and Melissa are probably two of the lucky few. First, that you were the kind of people who did make the time to write/send the cards. And second, because your mom understood
how precious each and every one of them was.

Isn't it interesting that clearly what was one of your mom's most prized possessions because of the love packed into each card, has now become a healing blanket of history, love and affection that you and Melissa can now wrap yourselves in.

Once again, your story speaks of the kind of women all three of you are.

Drew

[mindblob]

CK,

What you wrote is SO touching. Your Mom kept a box filled with words of Love. This also shows how much she cared about these words... about your words... and about you.

Reading your story, I understand how precious these letters are. They went through time and bring so much positive emotions to live. These words and letters you shared with her are like the dots of a beautiful love landscape you'll always keep in your heart. This vision is indeed unexpectedly positive.

Thank you for sharing it with us.

[CK]

Thanks all. So important that our words are permanently saved, too. We don't even have to go to any feat to have a permanent record of all our communications.

And Mack just informed me that some of the stuff I stored at his house had MORE letters in. So cool.

[Gavin Heaton]

You know, this is one of the paradoxes of online collections -- whether they be collections of images (a la Flickr) or blogs or websites -- they are great for connecting us all, but don't come close to a hand written note, card or photograph. They are also no substitute for a handwritten dedication in a beautifully bound book.

We are so used to connecting quickly these days that we forget that the most personal gift we can give it the gift of our time and attention. And what better way than to send a card, a book or a photo? It is not about WHAT is sent, but the intention and attention that the sender gives to us out of their busy days.

This is partly why each and every comment I receive on my blog sends a small shiver down my spine ... someone, somewhere has taken the time to share a thought with me (or to tell me off). Now that is a gift ... as is this beautiful post.

[Andy Ebon]

I been through this process for my dad, three times so far, and I'm not done yet.

The first time was to relocate him from New York City to Las Vegas into assisted living. I had to make quick decisions about what would move and what would be important to him. I had similar feelings as you, CK, in this first pass.

My dad passed away just two months later and I had to clear his assisted living unit. That was very tough.

Part three involved a return to New York to really go through his apartment of 55 years. Going through files, photos, notes, letters was rather incredible. Amongst the debris, I came across correspondence between my parents, letters from me, all kinds of things. Separating the real memories from junk was both exhausting and exciting.

I must to return again, to go though his personal collection of 2500 books (dad was a writer) as well as work on the apartment.

I'm going to allow some considerable time for those tasks. I only wish that my mom and dad had shared some of those mementos and memories with me while they were both alive.

Andy

[Bob Glaza]

CK - I'm not sure any of us - your blog friends and those you see every day - will ever realize the intimacy and transparency you share in your posts. The words you share are words of love and care. Strong, powerful medicine -

[Cindy Murray]

CK - What a beautiful person you are. How wonderful of you to share your heart and soul with not just friends and family but even strangers. I am so glad that I found your blog while searching for answers/help with the death of my Mom. The honor, respect and love you have given "Momma" is touching and an inspiration to this stranger.

Thank you
Cindy...California

[food gift baskets]

Your post reminds me of my childhood. Thanks for sharing your thoughts.