My love of TEDtalks led me to hear Bob Stein speak about A Rite of Passage for Late Life. Bob spoke eloquently of his need for rituals from a young age and ways he had created them for himself throughout his lifespan. But then, he was faced with cleaning out boxes of “stuff” he had accumulated in his life so his children would not have to do it after his death. This sparked his need for a ritual. Rather than sitting alone, sifting through the memories of his life, he devised a ritual. He displayed some of the items from his numerous boxes and invited friends and family to visit, ask questions about the items, and select items they wanted to take. The result was shared memories, yes. But it was also meaningful conversation about the changes in our country and world over his life span, his moral compass and values, how to leave a legacy, and much more.
This got me reflecting a bit. No, I’m not thinking about doing Swedish death cleaning. But I’m thinking about memories and things. The memories are the reasons we hang unto things, right? When Brie was a young girl, my mother was helping her clean her room. As she came across old receipts of things Brie had purchased with her allowance, she asked Brie, “Why are you hanging onto this?” Brie, with the innocence of a child replied, “They are memories, Gram.” My mother went on to explain that the memories are in our heart and our mind, not in the things. It was a great life lesson moment, one our family still talks about.

My truth is that I’m not ready to give up the “things”. They mean too much. I love seeing my grandmother’s sugar and creamer set in the dining room. It brings back the delightful smell of her homemade cooking and the way every meal was a masterful production. I’m not ready to give up the marble chess set that I gave Brandi for our first Christmas together. We were in the throes of new love and I love remembering that the only gift we needed was time with each other. I love seeing my mother’s paintings in the upstairs hallway. It reminds of seeing her easel and paints set up in the dining room, the smell of oil paints, and the pleasure I can still see in her face.
I want to follow Bob Stein’s ritual and create these amazing experiences with the people in my life. I want to follow my mother’s belief that memories are not in things, but are in my heart and mind. Maybe I am not ready to face a late life ritual, or that I am even at that stage of life. Or maybe I find comfort in seeing the things that bring a sweet memory to my mind and a gentle smile to my face. Or maybe my precious child had it right. They are memories, Gram.