I have a lot of stuff. That should not be taken as a brag. I am terrible about throwing away things that are past their useful life. I am worse at tossing or donating or selling things with either a sentimental attachment or with a particular historic obligation. When my grandfather died my grandmother gave me his work clothes. Well, some of them at least. Four or five suits, some amazingly tacky sport coats (blue gingham anyone? It’s like a picnic tablecloth with arms), dress shirts, even a tuxedo with black and white coats. He was always bigger than me, bigger in all dimensions. Taller by probably three or four inches, considerably heavier, a people person for the right people. Larger than life. So I accepted the clothes because my grandmother wanted me to have them though I could never hope to wear them. Years passed. As I have had work done to the house or have needed space in one place or another I have moved all of these clothes from one closet to another, taking them out to look at and smell the smell of the hall closet at Mim’s that has remained with them after all of this time.
But the weight of all of the past I am carrying around is heavy and today I did a very hard thing. I cleaned the closet. I took, with the exception of three things that I have actually be able to use occasionally, all of my grandfather’s clothes, and some of mine and gave them to Goodwill. There are some good things in there. Brooks Brothers shirts, Neiman Marcus suits. There are less good things as well. The tux was not particularly great and was probably something he owned of necessity rather than pleasure. But it’s gone now and I feel kind of stunned. I instantly regretted it. Why couldn’t I have just kept them? Why can’t I keep all things forever? When I’m gone we can send me and my past on in some kind of giant Viking funeral and all be released from and by our burdens.
Of course that’s ridiculous. I expect I’ll get over it but for right now that’s good way to go from a normal Sunday to a nice melancholy. The weather is perfect for it. Cold, rainy but more drizzle and light rain than a good, hard, cathartic storm; dark to fit the mood.
The worst part is that it’s not over yet. There are five boxes of random stuff in the garage that need to be winnowed, the aluminum melting furnace that needs to be dismantled and tossed, a broken car wheel and two radiators that need recycling and another hard one, a dresser that belonged to my other grandparents. It’s in disrepair and probably ought to be tossed but that will be as tough as the clothes. There’s also a lamp of theirs but that’s not as big of a deal. That will all have to wait until next weekend though. In the mean time, the will to do this has passed and I am spent. I kind of need to put the Christmas tree up which is it’s own emotional experience but a less sad one. It remains to be seen if I’m capable of anything more for today.