Sifting through the layers of our lives

It’s around 5 in the morning, and I’m thinking about the piles of stuff surrounding me and how much work I need to do before my friends arrive with their pick-up trucks later to help me move. But it’s more than stuff, I think, as I consider getting up and making coffee. It’s the layers of my mother’s life, and because I moved into her apartment after she passed almost seven years ago, it’s the layers of my life, too.

My mother lived in the same apartment for almost 30 years and, during that time, managed to fill every drawer, closet and storage area with things that comforted her and made her feel at home. The clothes, gifts, ornaments and cards alone that my Christmas-loving sister gave her filled at least three closets.

And then there are all the things from her two marriages and her life In England in the early 1950s, including expensive glassware and fashions that she purchased at her favourite store, Harrods of London. I’m not sure how a student studying opera in London could afford such luxuries, but she did. Mom lived large back then and wholeheartedly believed in Frank Lloyd Wright’s maxim, “Give me the luxuries of life and I will willingly do without the necessities.” Fortunately — although my accountant may disagree — she passed that sentiment on to me.

I planned to move out of her place long before now, but Covid and several other events that came at me out of the blue made it easier for me to stay put until life became less complicated and challenging.

Ha. Who was I kidding? Rarely, if at all, does life become less complicated and challenging. At least that’s the way it is for me. Not that I’m complaining. I believe a successful life comes from transcending the obstacles before us. Joy hides in finding a way through our problems. It was the same for my mother, whose life was as tragic as it was magical.

“It’s just one damned thing after another,” I hear her saying in my imagination as I walk toward the kitchen to make coffee.

As intimidating as the task of organizing this move is, it’s a lot easier thanks to Shelley Swift, a professional organizer specializing in helping families downsize and declutter. My biggest issue, I explained to Shelley when she arrived a few days ago to help, is dealing with the guilt I feel when I get rid of something I knew mom loved and wanted to keep.

“I feel like I’m letting her down.”

“That’s perfectly normal,” Shelley tells me, “but what you have to ask yourself is would your mother want you to experience all this guilt and feelings that you’re letting her down if she were here with you?”

“No,” I reply. “She’d say keep the things that make you feel good, get rid of the stuff you’re sick of looking at and then go have a cold beer or two.”

“That’s good advice,” Shelley says, “I’d like to have met your mother.”

Something else Shelley tells her clients is to take pictures of valued objects they decide not to keep. “Often, a photograph of an item that your loved one had an emotional connection with, or you have a connection with is enough to bring back pleasant memories.”

Pleasant memories indeed, I think, while considering Shelley’s thoughts about how to sift through the layers of our lives. Despite everything she accumulated, mom would agree wholeheartedly with her.

“It’s just stuff,” she said as the two of us shared a bottle of wine not long before she died. We laughed about how much she had accumulated over the years and how there was hardly room to hang a picture.

“I don’t know what you guys will do with it all when I’m gone,” she said. “If I were you, I’d get rid of everything.” Pausing to take a sip, she added with a smile. “Whatever you do, though, hang on to these wine glasses. I remember the day I bought them at Harrods.”

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