December 9, 2007

• Cleaning memories

  I’ve been spending a lot of time at my dad’s place during the summer helping him clean the basement after it got flooded from a drainage problem.   It really hasn’t been cleaned in
  years and  the basement  was simply being used for storage.  We had to move all the furniture and stuff into another part of the basement so that the contractors could do their repairs.  But before we could do that, we had to clean out a lot of stuff to make room.   My dad isn’t one to
  throw away magazines, books and the numerous newspaper clippings.  Mom kept lots of stuff too – just in case we
  needed it again.  Both grew up in the war
  where you simply don’t throw things out. 
  So I understand the emotional need to hang on to things.  It was tough gathering some of my mom’s
  clothes and getting them bagged for donation.  What got me was the smell of the clothes.  I swear I could still smell her but maybe my mind was playing tricks on me.  We also carefully sorted
  through her old paintings.  She was a
  very talented painter.  I marveled at her
  skill.  As a child I would watch her arrange her rice papers, prepare the various inks.  The only time I could help was washing her brushes.  As she got older, her arthritis made it impossible to paint anymore.  But she never complained. We moved all of her paintings upstairs and the rest of her papers and brushes went to my brother’s place and my condo. 

  Dad couldn’t bear to see us throwing or donating so many things.  From time to time, he would come down to see what was going on.  My sister or my brother would take turns shooing him back upstairs.  He was in agony when he saw some of the things
  being  hauled away.  He was particularly worried that we
  would throw out his books and magazines.  I made several trips to my bf’s
  place with boxes and boxes of books.  I assured him that I wasn’t throwing out his books. 

  Later I sat down with him and told him he has too many books and magazines.  He’ll need to make some tough decisions on what to keep and what to donate.  I tried to tell him that others could make use of these books and it wasn’t doing anything just sitting in the basement.  I encouraged him to start thinking of which ones he could donate.  His lowered his eyes and told me softly that he doesn’t have any friends or close relatives anymore and these books are his companions right now.  I swallowed hard and looked away.  I mumbled something but those softly spoken words hit me very hard. 

  The basement is all repaired now with new carpets and walls.  His book cases are back up and it’s jammed full.  He knows he still has many, many books that are in boxes.  He reminded me about the books at my bf’s place.  I told him I will bring them back little by little but he needs to make room for them. 

  I’ve been thinking how to clean up all of his things when he passes on.  Right now, it’s easy for me to decide that his books will be donated or sold off.  But I know when the time comes, it won’t be easy for me to part with his friends. 

  • 1:16 AM
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