The Comforts and Sorrows of “Death Cleaning”

A few months ago, the New York Times published an articled titled “How to Discover the Life-Affirming Comforts of ‘Death Cleaning’” by Rhonda Kaysen. The article uses the book The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning by Margareta Magnusson as a jumping off point to talk about downsizing and decluttering while we are still able to do it for ourselves. The book by Magnusson is described as “a charming, practical, and unsentimental approach to putting a home in order while reflecting on the tiny joys that make up a long life.”

When the article was published the Times asked for comments and then included many of the hundreds of responses in the Opinion pages a couple of months later. Some of these responses were “charming, practical, and unsentimental” while others were emotional and touching and some even heartbreaking.

While the responses from readers ran the gamut, many of the people who commented fell into the categories of downsizers we have discussed in our blog: the “keepers” who want to preserve special things as well as memories, and will linger over the process and the “throwers” who relish clearing out and will empty a house quickly.

But the most moving responses were from people who had had a profound reaction to sorting through all the stuff that belonged to loved ones and shared their stories in the comment section.

One commenter found the word “clutter” to be distasteful. “The word captures none of the wistful sadness of the triage required to downsize one’s accumulated past life, even while looking forward to the next phase.”

One person said that she had somehow become the keeper of the flame for the whole family. “Cleaning out the house has made me decide to give up that role and eliminate what I do not want or need.”

Another man was sorting through his parents’ home after his mother’s death and found, among much stuff, five copies of Mickey Rooney’s autobiography. After cleaning up somewhat and selling the house, he said, “I took the only things that truly mattered. My memories, my dad, his dogs and one copy of Mickey Rooney’s autobiography.”

After a man and his wife cleaned out his in-laws’ home of 50 years, he said it was the hardest task either of them had ever done, “taking a physical, emotional and to some extent even spiritual toll.” From that experience, he felt the best thing we can do “is to determine what’s truly important and get rid of the rest.”

One man writes that he never had a good relationship with his mother and, as one of her caregivers, was able to sort through some of her private papers while she was dying. He found teachers’ reports and artwork of his, clearly things that she appreciated and valued. He says, “By the time she died of dementia in her home, I had received the grace to grieve her loss in a way I thought unimaginable. Disposing of her physical belongings gave me the gift of realizing a love she had for me I never knew existed.”

One person’s response reminded me of what a friend told me as I was writing our book Moving On. She said that after her father-in-law passed away, her mother-in-law cleaned out her house of all the accumulated stuff, saying she did it as a gift to her children. The commenter said, “My goal is for my kids, instead of saying ‘what are going to do with all this stuff?’ will say ‘I wonder what happened to…’”

That’s worthy of adding to my list of goals for emptying my home of clutter: For my children to say, “I wonder what happened to…”

≈Linda Hetzer is an editor and author of books on home design, crafts, and food, and coauthor of Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home.

Letting Go

My mother at her wedding in 1944

This is not the post I was planning to write ay this time. And it’s certainly not a post I want to write but it’s a story that needs to be told.

We had a flood.

Hurricane Ida, which devastated parts of New Orleans, headed north and merged with a front to wreak havoc in the Northeast. In New York City, subways were shut down overnight, the first time since Hurricane Sandy in 2012, due to flash flooding.

As a result of a somewhat freaky turn of events, we had a flood coming in from our neighbor’s terrace and apartment. The force of the water overwhelmed her terrace, came flooding through her apartment and out into the hallway. The water came through the wall we share with her apartment, which is our bedroom, dressing room, and my closet, and it continued into our linen closet. What a mess.

In my closet, I had my mother’s and my aunt’s wedding dresses. The flood damaged the hem of my mother’s dress and completely ruined the long train on my aunt’s dress. What did I do with the dresses? After they dried out, I took them to fabric recycling.

Don’t judge me, at least not yet. I had done due diligence on the 1940s dresses years ago, trying to donate them to the local historical society in the area where they got married. The woman said everyone wants to donate vintage wedding dresses and they only want it if you have things that go with it. Well, I had everything because my mother saved everything: the engagement announcement in the newspaper, the wedding announcement, the wedding invitation, even the place cards for my grandparents. More than just a dress, there was a story there. The woman seemed interested but never got back to me. As the dresses were drying out, I researched to see if I could find someone who made new dresses out of parts of old ones, and I couldn’t find anyone.

I decided to let the dresses go. Was that hard? Yes, but it was also a relief. Did I feel okay after donating personal items with such a profound family history? Yes and no. The practical side of me wishes someone could have used the fabric to create something new. (I still hope someone creative trolls the fabric recycling warehouse and finds them.) The sentimental side of me is at peace with my decision. I have to clean up the apartment to make it safe for my family and that is more important than saving sentimental items.

My husband’s decision was to let go of two antiques items that belonged to his parents. They were both in the living room and not affected by the flood, but it was time to part with them. One was a small end table and matching chair that he put on Craigslist and sold right away. The second is a Hitchcock style chair that he will list soon.

We are letting go of these items and we are content with our decision. (Why did we have these items for so long? Well, that’s a topic for another post.)

We’re just happy to be letting go. As Maya Angelou said, “We need much less than we think we need.”

≈Linda Hetzer is an editor and author of books on home design, crafts, and food, and coauthor of Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home.

What We Part With Beyond our Stuff

The other day a friend of mine told me that she was not going to go to a knitting weekend on an island in Maine that she had attended for years. She would usually fly to Maine and a friend would drive the two of them on the 2 to 3 hour trip to the island. Her friend told her she no longer drives for such an extended time

My friend went through some of the common steps of mourning the loss of this gathering. At first a bit of denial: It didn’t really matter that she wasn’t going. There wasn’t much anger but there was bargaining: She would arrange another trip to see the friends she usually sees when she’s in Maine. Maybe a bit of depression: She realized that if she didn’t go this year that she would probably not go again and she had to come to terms with that loss. And finally, acceptance: Her friend’s life had changed, her life had changed, and this is where they are now.

What she was losing was not stuff or things or something you could touch but she was parting with companionship, a communal activity, and the chance to be with friends.

Other friends of mine seem to be living through similar experiences. One friend is getting her lake house ready to sell. She is older than me and a very independent widow who had always driven to the house by herself. It was getting difficult now and the house needed some repairs after a flood. Another friend is selling her beach house. Her life has changed after the pandemic and this seems a necessary step.

 Although these women are getting rid of their stuff, things that had accumulated in their vacation homes over the years, what they are parting with is a way of life, the opportunity to spend time in their favorite place to relax, a place where they welcomed generations of their families.

When we were cleaning out our storage room, I remember my husband contemplating his fly-fishing equipment. It was not the stuff, the waders and nets and fishing rods, he was reluctant to give away, it was the loss of a favorite activity. With his back issues it was no longer possible to have such an active lifestyle. He was giving up a part of his former life.

How have you dealt with a change in lifestyle? What positive changes have you made that you would like to share with us?

≈Linda Hetzer is an editor and author of books on home design, crafts, and food, and coauthor of Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home.

Heartwood and Shtisel: Writing a Letter to your Heirs

In Shtisel, a limited series from Israel, a main character writes letters to her unborn child, thinking she may not be around to see the child grow. (Spoiler alert: She does survive.)

In Heartwood: The Art of Living with the End in Mind, the author Barbara Becker tells of one of her patients in hospice who, too tired for anything lengthy, writes a simple letter to her grandson telling him she loves him and is proud of him.

These acts of writing simple, heartfelt letters really resonated with me, perhaps because we are awaiting the birth of the next generation in my family. I thought back to the numerous times we wrote in this blog about writing a letter or communicating in some other way with our loved ones.

In this post, we wrote about a woman who left the corporate world to create a company that helps people write Legacy Letters to their loved ones so the writer can, in her words, “expresses his/her life wisdom, love and life values with a loved one with the intention that it serve as a future guide, inspiration and support.” 

Another way to makes things easier for your loved ones is to create a list of all important things, practical things, you want them to know and where to find important papers and documents. Getting your house in order is an act of love.

Another way to communicate love is to tell family stories. In this post we share the power of telling our children the story of their birth. I remember sharing the stories with my kids because the events of the day and day before were so memorable. Here’s to telling that story.

We can also write down our family stories, a wonderful gift. Both of my kids wrote about family members for a school assignment and remember today how interesting the stories were.

And we can investigate our genealogy, either online through genealogy websites or by talking with family members. A cousin gave me the family history of my grandfather’s family going back to the 1600s and it is such a cherished gift, one I plan to leave with my children.

May we always honor and celebrate the story of our families.

≈Linda Hetzer is an editor and author of books on home design, crafts, and food, and coauthor of Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home.

What Are You Grateful For In 2020?

Mural of Ruth Bader Ginsburg, First Ave and 11th Street, New York City

Gratitude season looks a little different this year, a year that could be called annus horribilus, as Queen Elizabeth once described what 1992 felt like for her. It’s been a year of death and loss and heartbreak but it has also been a year that has brought out the best in people.

We have seen selflessness and heroics and lots of paying it forward. If we were awarding prizes for altruistic behavior in 2020, the top ones would definitely go to healthcare workers. But there have been so many other examples of people going above and beyond. In a previous post, I mentioned a community refrigerator and pantry run by a local restaurant for people who have lost their jobs. A couple of weeks ago, on a Friday night, an historic church near us burned to the ground and displaced a woman’s shelter. By the time two friends and I walked down to the temporary shelter with clothing and toiletries on Saturday afternoon, the outpouring of support was so great that the shelter had to stop accepting donations. How wonderful is that!

What is your story of gratitude in 2020?

We would love to hear about a story about what’s happened with you this year and what you are thankful for. If our experiences this year are our teachers, what have we learned? What have we held onto, and what have we let go of? What have we gained in this strange year, what have we lost?

We are grateful for all of you who follow our blog and would like to gift a copy of our book to one of our readers. We are having a book giveaway. Share a story of gratitude, a moment you shared with a treasured friend, something you are grateful for in 2020. Share the story with us by leaving a comment to this post, and we will choose one grateful reader to receive a copy of our e-book, Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home. The deadline for entries is January 4, 2021.

Gratitude is a state of being, an attitude, not a practice, or so we are told. But being in a state of gratitude may be more difficult for some of us than practicing gratitude. The most helpful piece of advice for me about being grateful came from a completely different source. After Joe Biden won the election, many politicians and pundits were offering up ideas of what he should be doing. In response to articles in the New York Times, one reader wrote: Do what’s possible. Don’t try to reverse climate change, just do one thing to protect one piece of land. Don’t try to revamp healthcare completely, just do one thing to help people get coverage. That letter, that piece of advice, really resonated with me.

Let’s do what’s possible. Let’s do one thing that we can do.

Let’s finish this year strong.

Linda Hetzer is an editor and author of books on home design, crafts, and food, and coauthor of Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home. 

It Brought Me to Tears

Photo © Michael Ginsburg

Gratitude is not my go-to emotion, I have to admit. I’m more of a complainer/explainer or questioner. I’m more apt to ask: Why is this the way it is? Why can’t we change it? But this week three things brought me such gratitude that it brought tears to my eyes.

October is New York is usually a beautiful month with mild weather and the beginning of fall color in the trees. My favorite month, and for personal reasons as well. It’s the month I met my husband and the month we were married. This October was cold and rainy and gray, really drab. But over the weekend, the weather improved and the leaves started to change color. The city looked glorious and that brightened my mood. We had our beautiful October for a few days, even if it waited until November to show its face. The site of this tree brought me to tears.

The announcement on Saturday about the election results brought joy to many, with cars honking, people dancing in the streets, strangers exchanging high fives, and so many smiles. Regardless of your political leanings, the music of exuberance is something we haven’t heard in a while. The collective sigh of relief was audible all around me. The delight of people played out, almost like street theater, and it brought tears to my eyes.

A few blocks south of where I live, in a neighborhood with many in need, there is a community refrigerator and pantry on the street. The fridge is plugged into a mac ‘n cheese restaurant, the owners generously provide the power to keep it running. Anyone who needs something to eat, whether because of the pandemic or due to job loss, is encouraged to help themselves. This week, on a neighborhood Facebook page, someone asked if there were any stores or restaurants that might donate single-serving size containers and lids, 100 of them, because she was making soup for the community fridge. I was misty-eyed. In the comments were suggestions for places to ask. But one commenter said she would buy the containers for her in the discount store. I was overwhelmed with gratitude for people who will help those in need with something as basic as food in these difficult times. My neighbors’ generosity brought me to tears.

As we approach this Thanksgiving, one that will be without family and friends for most people, we still have much to be thankful for. We can all experience tears of gratitude.

Linda Hetzer is an editor and author of books on home design, crafts, and food, and coauthor of Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home. 

Getting It Right

Although right means exact, precise, correct, in the world of decluttering, right is a relative word. It means different things to different people and to different families.

Shortly after we published our book, Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home, someone published a book with Rightsizing in the title rather than Downsizing and to me that made perfect sense.

So how do we get it right – right for ourselves and our families?

Start small.

Start with just one item that you can get rid of, whether you try to sell it, donate it, or just plain give it away. Then choose a second item. Take small, very small steps.

Remind yourself you are not a storage unit.

We hold onto things that other people gave us, that belonged to family members, that don’t quite fit, that aren’t quite our style, that we may use one day, that we can’t possibly give away… We hold onto a lot of stuff. Give some thought to the items for which you have excuses. Maybe those are the things that can go.

Live for today.

You don’t need too many things in your home that remind you of the past – even if they belonged to your family. You don’t need too many items that reference of the future – that refer to a person you aspire to be rather than the person you are today. And you don’t need to keep stuff for the person you once were or for the job you once had or from the relationship you were once in. What things do you need for the life you live today?

Be you.

Not everything has to be minimized. It’s not about having fewer things; it’s about having the right things. For some of us, that is books, for others it’s pots and pans and spices, for still others it’s a DVD collection of classic movies, for some it’s a big yarn stash, for others it’s stylish clothing. Being you is about having just enough things and learning to feel that you already have enough. It’s about having less of the things that don’t move you forward and more of the things you love.

Enjoy your stories.

Whether you keep an item or give it away, an important part of the process is to tell stories about it. What meaning does it have in your family? Who were you with when you wore that outfit? When did you purchase that thing and why? Tell those stories. After giving away some of your stuff are you feeling disappointed? Do you feel a bit of regret? Tell those stories, too. Stories help keep alive the stuff that has meaning whether you have kept the item or given it away. Stories help make it right.

What can you get rid of today that makes it right for you?

Linda Hetzer is an editor and author of books on home design, crafts, and food, and coauthor of Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home. 

How Wide is Your Window of Tolerance?

A statue of Peter Stuyvesant wearing appropriate PPE.

New times bring new thoughts, or how do we adapt to the times we’re now living in? Several terms are cropping up in social media that can help us rethink and perhaps better understand what we’re going through.

And one of them is not a new definition of cranky people. Cranky still means “given to fretfulness, easily angered, ill-tempered, grouchy, cross.” Sound familiar? Sheltering at home is not always easy. Sometimes resilience is just putting one foot in front of the other.

Someone has asked, “How wide does your window of tolerance have to be?” Window of tolerance, a term coined by Daniel J. Siegel, MD, a psychiatrist, is defined as the zone in which people are able to function most effectively.

“When a person is within their window of tolerance, it is generally the case that the brain is functioning well and can effectively process stimuli. That person is likely to be able to reflect, think rationally, and make decisions calmly without feeling either overwhelmed or withdrawn.”

How wide does our window of tolerance have to be for us to adapt to the disconnection and solitude we are experiencing, to being alone and not having the company of family and friends? What can we do so we don’t feel overwhelmed and withdrawn, which are legitimate feelings in these times. Much food for thought.

One of the ways in which we can be more tolerant of our situation is that we are now better able to see what is essential, another current meme. We now know we don’t need things, we need people, so the media is telling us. It makes me smile, a bit ruefully, that my coauthor and I have been talking about this for nearly two decades, as have others involved in the world of downsizing and decluttering. But now it seems that our message if being heard, loud and clear, by a newer and bigger audience.

What do I miss most? A friend says she can’t wait to invite us over for tea and cookies (she’s a great baker) and I can’t wait to accept her invitation. I would like the library to reopen, even if it’s just to pick up books. And I would love to get a haircut. I would like to greet my favorite people at the farmers market from a distance closer than 6 feet. I don’t miss going to the theater as much as I thought I would, maybe because there is so much available online. I don’t miss in-person meetings (although video conferencing is getting to be a drag). I would love to get on public transportation so I could visit loved ones who are a train ride away.

This need to rethink our lives brings us another new term, or rather an old term that has found new relevance: a circular economy. What this means is to reuse or recirculate what you have.

In practical terms, it means to darn your socks (as my coauthor pointed out a few weeks ago), patch your jeans, wear clothes until they wear out or pass them along to someone who will. It’s a world of wearing hand-me-down clothes, fixing electronics when possible to make them last longer, borrowing books from the library (which is not possible right now) or sharing your books and jigsaw puzzles with others. It’s a world of eating leftovers, not wasting food. It’s making protective face masks from old t-shirts. It’s carrying a bag with you when you shop, being willing to forego the free plastic shopping bags. It’s a world where we care more about the planet and its people than we do about what we can get or own or have.

We widen our window of tolerance, which helps us see that people matter more than things and that makes us more caring of the world around us.

Stay safe. Stay well. Keep sharing what you have.

Linda Hetzer is an editor and author of books on home design, crafts, and food, and coauthor of Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home. 

100 Years Ago

 

One day in early November was the day my father would have been 100 years old. I mentioned it on Facebook for family and friends to see but wasn’t sure I was going to write anything more about it.

Well, 100 years does deserve it’s own post.

My father taught me a lot about history, both history of our family and history of the world because he loved to read about it and see plays about it – and because he lived it, at least to me.

The photo of my father was taken in Brooklyn, New York, when he was about two years old, I would guess, looking a bit scared on a rather large pony. I always thought it a bit odd that he was posed on a pony on a Brooklyn sidewalk. But a few years ago I read a novel about a family who lived in lower Manhattan in the 1920s and 30s. In the story a man brings a pony around so children can be photographed on it. I felt history come alive.

My mother and father in the 1940s

A favorite memory for me was when we visited the Theodore Roosevelt Birthplace National Historic Site with my father and my children. It was supposed to be the first of two activities that day but we spent the entire afternoon in the museum. My father had to examine every exhibit, read every plaque on the wall and every letter in the case. He was observing history the way he liked to do it, absorbed in the experience.

As I wrote in an earlier post, he kept many things that spoke of his history, records like his baptismal certificate, yearbooks from high school and college, and many, many photographs. He loved taking pictures. And thankfully, his family kept photos of my father and his sister, photos that bring me back to a time long before I was born.

My father lived a long life, 92 years, with some heartbreak, his father died when he was young, and much love, with a family he created with my mother, the woman he adored.

Linda Hetzer is an editor and author of books on home design, crafts, and food, and coauthor of Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home. 

Stopping to Smell the Roses or Look at Old Photos

My maternal grandmother, on the left, with her sisters.

A study in the Journal of Personality and Individual Differences (I love that title) suggests people are happier when they take time to appreciate the good things in life, and in the study psychology professor Nancy Fagley defines appreciation as “acknowledging the value and meaning of something…and feeling positive emotional connection to it.”

The great advantage to living in the same place for well over 30 years is that it’s warm and comfortable and definitely feels like home. One of the disadvantages is that it’s easy to accumulate way too much stuff.

As everyone knows who reads this blog, I am constantly trying to sort through stuff that belongs to me, my husband, our parents, and our grandparents. I feel great pressure to make decisions about what to keep and what to give away, mostly pressure that I put on myself but also some that comes from husband and my kids.

As I was going through antique and vintage clothes that have been handed down to me, among them two Swedish dresses, actually blouse/slips that are worn under a wool skirt, that I’m interested in donating to a museum, I decided to look at my grandmother’s photo albums. Yes, I have photo albums that belong to me, some from my parents, my aunt, and my grandmother. Talk about overload!

I took time out to slowly browse through my grandmother’s photos albums, mostly photographs of people that I never knew, but filled with pictures of my grandmother and my grandfather and their families. I also looked through an album of my mother’s that had photos of my father’s family.

My paternal grandmother, on the right, with her siblings.

Looking at the photographs of my two grandmothers, I was filled with appreciation. Certainly, I wouldn’t be here without those two women who persevered through good times and bad to keep their families together and who helped shape the people who would become my parents. And seeing photos of their parents, my great grandparents, was an almost out-of-body experience.

I took time to smell the roses, to look at old photos, to appreciate what I have, and to marvel at the photos that show the lives of my ancestors. What a gift to me, one I gave myself, a gift that allowed me to slow down and appreciate the women who came before me.

A caveat here. Of course I would never suggest that someone start to declutter by looking at photos. That’s too difficult and emotional and nostalgia-inducing. And I wouldn’t suggest looking at photos if you are up against a deadline. If things have to be moved out, for whatever reason, deal with the stuff first and the photos later. However, I’m a big fan of taking a break, taking the time to appreciate.

I learned a lot from looking at photographs of my grandmothers.

Looking at old photos taught me and continues to teach me, foremost, the preciousness of time.

I also felt how fortunate I am to have such a strong family and how incredibly lucky I am to have photographs of them.

And I realized that looking at the old photos gave me more joy than looking at the items they left behind. That was a bit of a revelation to me and, in some ways, makes it easier to “get rid of the stuff and keep the memories.”

At the same time as I was looking back, I could see the value of things to come. As the Irish-American poet Lola Ridge, champion of the working classes, said, “You are laden with beginnings.” Everything I do is a new beginning, just as everything my grandmothers did was a new beginning for them.

My maternal grandmother at 17, right after she came to the US.

 

My grandmother with my father and my aunt.

Linda Hetzer is an editor and author of books on home design, crafts, and food, and coauthor of Moving On: A Practical Guide to Downsizing the Family Home.