None of my favourite things
None of my favourite things
Sunday Blog 150 - 25th August 2024
I almost couldn’t finish this. But here it is. My Sunday Blog. This is all I’ve got juice in the tank for xxx
Of all the careers to fall into, like Alice down the rabbit hole, museums would surely have been the least likely one for me. Long before Marie Kondo, I understood all too well the dull sheen items get over time when they no longer spark joy. One of my favourite ever sounds is the thud of my bagged items hitting the bottom of the charity bin. To date, I’ve almost never thrown something away and later regretted it. And I’ve thrown a LOT of things away.
Back in 1987, in the last months of my Arts degree, I worried myself into a rag wondering what on earth I’d do. Then two weeks after graduating, there I was. Employed in the history department of the Western Australian museum on their collections catalogue (back when the hideous 1970s building was still in place.) I was just passing through though, and two years later I ended up in London’s Greenwich Maritime Museum.
About a year into my six-year tenure at Greenwich I met the woman who had the newly created role of “De-accession Co-ordinator.” Her actual job was getting rid of surplus museum items. Given that on average only around 3% of any museum’s collection is on display, there was quite a big scope for her role. How jealous I was at the time. Here was my dream job, disposing of unnecessary items and getting paid well for it.
Why is this topic so present for me right now? In this incredibly melancholy week which began with my 97-year-old mother breaking her hip on Monday, somehow the topic of shedding things keeps coming up for me. Trying to find a way through this vigil time of negotiating the end of a loved one who didn't believe in religion any more but was a very spiritual person all her life. And was also a huge hoarder.
As I bumble and stumble through each day, I've been listening to the Pema Chodron book How You Live Is How You Die. She talks about how getting rid of as much as we can before we die is a good idea. Mum's life is already confined to a small room in a residential aged care facility, but like all of us witnessing our parents transitioning, there seem to be so many lessons for us.
Shed the things. Embrace the joy of chucking shit away.
Just today I was discussing the passing of my 97 year old mother with my daughter, talking about how I gave Mum permission to leave us.
She was a dedicated wife and mother who saw my father through his last years with MND then turned her support to her three children; never intrusive, always ready to help. She moved into a retirement village at 65 because she didn't want to be a burden on us, although she was never that. IN those last days I knew she would be hanging onto life even though she was suffering and, by that stage, non-verbal, because she would be thinking of our grief. I said to her, "You can go now, Mum. We are all settled and happy, the grand-kids are doing well. You have been the best mother and grandmother anyone could want." There was no indication that she had heard me, but she passed that night. She had seldom done anything without checking with us first and I knew she would need that reassurance.
Pip, I hope you can be as at peace with your mum passing. Mothers are irreplaceable, wonderful people and I am sending hugs to you.
Sending lots of love Pip, I hope your mum is not suffering too much and you can be gentle on yourself. Big hugs xx