Dad died last September. Each trip back to my childhood home since then has involved helping mom purge the house of unneeded things. Dad collected stuff, lots of stuff. Not like the hoarding one might see on reality television, but stuff. He had an affection for cars (both real and model), tools, audio equipment, photos, books and many various items deemed “collectible”. When alive he had a personal attachment to most of it. These were his treasures.
So here I am, purging. It’s an odd job. Taking things that my father had an affection for and disposing of these items without any attachment of my own. Looking at each item deciding if it’s going in the trash, to another family member, into the upcoming massive yard sale and/or eventually charity if it remains.
What’s odd is knowing these things meant something to him. He enjoyed them. They gave him esteem and security. He had stories to share about them. They had purpose and they gave him purpose.
Through this process I must honor these things for they meant something to someone I loved …. who loved me.
I honor them by setting them free. I set them off on a journey to find their way back into the hands of others to which meaning and value will be realized. For sitting here in a dark closet no longer touched or seen by their lost owner is doing them no good nor is it helping those who will enjoy them in their future. That is whether their future is being displayed proudly on a shelf by another collector, playing in the dirt of a field with a young child, being restored into the classic cars they really are by a young car enthusiast, playing the music of a budding audiophile or even finding their way into a recycling plant making raw materials for new life as something new and different.
With each item I will send a blessing. A blessing that may each hand it touches after leaving mine be blessed. Blessed with happiness, peace, love, joy, health and prosperity.
Dad would have wished the same to all of those many hands out there who don’t yet know the items nor the blessings are coming their way.