You Can’t Take It with You When You Go, But What You Leave Behind May Live On
When someone has passed away, a complicated piece of the puzzle is all of the physical “stuff” left behind. Going through a loved one’s things is necessary after they pass on -whether it happens immediately or sometime after-the-fact —even years down the road. This is especially true when some items are right where the person left them -tools on the work bench, clothes hung in the closet and folded at the end of the bed, etc. This process can be healing in itself, but can also feel a bit wrong. If you’ve been there, then you may know the uncomfortable feeling I’m referring to. We of course want to honor, remember and feel connected to someone we love who has passed on, and utilizing/keeping some of their belongings can be a great way to do that, but at the same time, it may feel like we’re robbing the dead, being insensitive or trying to move on without them too quickly… But on the other hand, are we to memorialize them with their earthly possessions left in place? If so, for how long? Is that what they would want us to do? Let’s examine more below.
This topic came up this past Fourth of July weekend. My boyfriend, Rich, had gone over to his grandma’s house and came back with some of his late grandfather’s tools. Rich’s late grandpa, Dick, passed away in 2016 and most of his tools out in his barn are still in the same spot he left them. Each year, Rich and his dad and uncle skin their deer in grandpa’s barn -a tradition they’re carrying on years after grandpa has passed away. Even though a lot of time has been spent in that barn, little has actually been moved or taken in terms of grandpa’s actual stuff. But this past weekend, when in the barn, Rich took a few things that he wanted to add to his growing tool collection. When he came home, he told me that he got some of his grandpa’s tools, but I could recognize the somber undertone. He told me he felt wrong and weird going through and taking some of his grandpa’s stuff, even though he knows that, of course, grandpa would want him to have these tools and use them. But that fact didn’t prevent some guilt and other emotions from washing over Rich, even when so many years have gone by since his grandpa passed away. We talked about this quite a bit, as he knows I “get it.” This grief-language is one I have grown fluent in, and while this “taking stuff” step may seem insignificant, it really is significant.
When I was in Michigan this past June, I found myself washed in that same bittersweet web of emotion and guilt. I went to Gram’s house and went into my brother Jon’s room for the first time since he passed away last September. Clothes were folded on a chest right where Jon had last placed them. More clothes were hung meticulously in the closet, and hats were stacked neatly on the headboard of his bed (he was a military man, after all). Initially, I was simply taking in the significance of this space, as Jon spent his final moments and passed away in that room. Then, I began looking through his closet, the way somebody does when browsing but not planning to purchase something at a store. Gram peered around the corner and told me “Take whatever you want, sweetie!.” But… Can I? Should I? Should I take stuff now? Should we wait? How long are we waiting? Has anyone else taken anything yet? These were all questions going through my mind as I prepared to switch my brain from looking longingly at my brother’s stuff, to picking out which pieces of that stuff I wanted to haul out of his room. It’s been almost a year, and I know that Jon would want us to use anything we could. He wouldn’t want us to memorialize his clothes in a shut-off room that he died in. He would want the hoodies, shirts, hats and everything else to live on. And so, after some time, I grabbed a hoodie, a few shirts, a pair of sweatpants (that, come to find out, I don’t fit into -Jon and I might have been roughly the same height but he did not, in fact, have a woman’s frame) and a hat that all spoke to me. I left with these items in a brown paper bag and drove away casually, as if leaving a Walmart run. I was, and still am, grateful for the opportunity to bring home a few pieces of my brother’s stuff, so why did it feel so weird? I texted my sister before taking Jon’s hoodie on a camping trip, lamenting that it would no longer smell like him if I wore it camping and got dirt, rain, smoke etc on it. She understood what I was saying, but encouraged me to “wear that thing til it disintegrates.” So I wore it camping, it’s washed, hung back up in the closet, waiting for the next opportunity I deem worthy of wearing it.
In a way, I think taking and moving some of the stuff that was left in place by the deceased comes with some unspoken formality behind it. This is the final end. That pair of sweatpants that was folded and placed by the end of the bed was intended to be worn again by it’s owner, but that possibility is now over. The wrench and hammer that grandpa left on the workbench certainly have many miles on them, and were set down to be picked up by the same working hands again -but now, that possibility is over, too. Even in a case where somebody knows they’re dying - a terminal illness, perhaps - their possessions are still theirs, and even if they told us to take what we want when they go, or even take something specific, we really don’t want any of it… we would rather have them here with us. But we know this is unavoidable, life does not work that way. If we have lost, then it means we have loved, and if we have loved, we are lucky and are living the human experience the way it’s intended: connecting with others. At the end of the day, you can’t take any of this stuff with you, but if it reminds you of a loved one, if you can honor them and their life and their story by using these items -whether they be clothes, tools, or something else -why wouldn’t we? It’s almost as if these things are gifts from our loved one, giving us opportunities to remember and incorporate their spirit into different aspects of our lives. So, why the guilt?
I think the guilt and other complex emotions come from this “finality” that comes with this step and the “moving on” that taking / moving possessions symbolizes. Taking a bag of clothes out of the closet or a bag of tools off the workbench does not mean we’re moving on, in terms of forgetting the person we love -actually, it’s quite the opposite. We are moving forward. I want to wear that hoodie camping and remember the good times I had with my brother. I want his spirit there with me and I want to be comforted by a piece of clothing that he once wore himself. I want to keep his memory alive when I tell everyone this hoodie is Jon’s. I want Rich to look at grandpa’s tools sitting on his own workbench now, and remember how hardworking his grandfather was and reminisce on their memories made together in that barn. I want him to tell our own kids one day that the hammer he’s using to build something belonged to their great grandfather. It might be the final “nail in the coffin” so to speak, but it’s a liberating one, once you get past the feelings of discomfort. I would never go into my brother’s closet and take a hoodie without asking (my sister’s closet, on the other hand…) and I’m sure Rich would never go into his grandpa’s barn, take a tool and drive away. But things are different when that person has passed on. We have to remind ourselves that things are different, that those same rules do not apply here, and that its okay.
When my Nana passed away in 2022, my mom and aunt were not able to clean out the room at her assisted living home themselves. Instead, the staff bagged and boxed everything up themselves the day after she died, and left it at the front reception desk for them to pick up. It seemed very cold and transactional to me. They saw a vacant room opportunity and wanted to turn that bad boy around overnight. My mom felt she was robbed of the opportunity to go through Nana’s things, some of which were surely where she left them. They did not let Nana’s daughters experience the process of taking down, putting away, boxing up, moving on and saying goodbye to the place their mother called home for several years. Instead, they sifted through boxes and bags in the parking lot -they donated what they could, they saved what they were able to, and they drove away and moved forward with that piece of their grief journey, whether they were ready or not.
In this lifetime, if we love, we are going to experience loss. The more we deny this reality, the more we try to avoid it, the more we try to hide from it, the louder of a splash it’s going to make in our lives when it happens -because it will inevitably happen, again and again. We can’t prepare for every feeling that comes with grief, and we can’t spend our lives in fear of being in pain once a loved one passes on -that’s not healthy, either. What we can do is be here now. Not in the past, not in the future, but here today. We can be gentle and kind and patient with ourselves, especially when it comes to grief. We can enjoy the time that we have with those who are still here with us and try to be fully present with them. And when it comes to grief, when it comes to the “stuff” that has been left behind, we can remember that our loved one is in a much greater place than we can fathom. They are at true peace. If this is the case, that means that they are moving forward with their own lives… the afterlife is life after death, after all. It is only fair that we allow ourselves to do the same here on earth. If that means throwing on a ballcap or swinging a hammer that belonged to somebody we love, in memory of them and in honor of the life and legacy they have left behind, then how lucky are we to be the holders of such a precious gift? We can use these gifts with pride, knowing that we will never let the memory of the ones we love be forgotten. We can imagine our loved ones are looking down, proud at us for picking up the pieces and moving forward. Let the guilt and other emotions come up if they come up, then let them go. Then, let the love and pride of our loved ones wash over us as we move forward, one step at a time.
