It was a gigantic fund-raising Rummage Sale like so many others I'd been to...
But it wasn't.
It was 7 very large rooms of a community center and all the hallways jammed pack with other people's donated "stuff" for sale.
But it wasn't.
It was all meteciously organized and sorted by category so you could easily search out exactly what you were looking for.
But it wasn't.
It was every second-hand shopper's dream sale.
But it wasn't. Not at all.
Back home recently for a fast weekend of visiting family before the snow flies in Northeast Ohio, my sisters and I stopped by the much anticipated Community Rummage Sale we'd been attending annually for at least 20 years. This is the mother of all Rummage Sales with more treasures and surprise purchases than any other. Furniture, kitchenware, linens, pictures, crafts, glassware, you name it... Truly-- everything you could think of and then some. We love this sale.
But not this year.
The Rummage Sale is the brainchild of the residents at the senior living community my mom lived in before she passed away nearly 11 months ago. The "merchandise" is mostly donated by residents when they are downsizing to move into new houses or apartments on the senior campus.
It's generally all the stuff that new residents either can't fit into their new home, stuff their family members don't want or need, or items they simply no longer desire. It's all donated for a good cause and everyone feels really good about passing their belongings on because the funds raised go to help seniors in need.
But it's not.
And by "not" I mean it's not just stuff donated when new residents are downsizing to move into the senior living community. It's also all the stuff donated by families when their loved ones pass away. A realization that we, when attending the Rummage Sale all these years, choose not to think about.
As I said, this was a much anticipated event for my sisters and I so, without hesitation, we piled into Baby Sister's giant SUV and headed to the sale hoping to find small crystal bowls, mason jars and votive candle holders to be used at my niece's wedding this coming Spring.
When we walked into the front door we were immediately greeted by my mother's former next door neighbor. She really misses mom and we had a lovely conversation together albeit with a lump in our throats.
Then, even though we'd braced ourselves for the possibility of running into more of Mom's other friends, we stepped into the first room to shop-- kitchenware.
But we shouldn't have.
On a table, four steps inside the door, were my mother's kitchen placemats for sale-- The ones I'd made her a million years ago and she insisted were "just fine" for her new home even though they didn't match anything but she used them everyday because I'd made them for her.
I could literally hear my sisters' intake of breath simultaneously followed by zippered purses opening to reach for Kleenex. Seeing our mother's donated things for sale never crossed out minds.
And there we stood silently, tears rolling down our faces-- all of us touching the placemats that I now held in my arms like a child holding a favorite teddy bear. No words, just tears and the realization that our last moments of denial about mom's passing, and thinking the past 11 months had all been a bad dream that we would magically wake-up from, faded with our tears on the fabric of the mates.
Apparently we stood frozen at the "placemat table" for a long time because a nearly 85 year old resident volunteer wearing a name tag and apron gently nudged us along because we were holding up other shoppers.
As we snaked our way through the many tables of sale items, we spotted more of the "stuff" we'd donated when our mother passed away-- Her dish towels, the ones with the crocheted tops that she hung off her kitchen stove handle. Then came the China tea pot without a lid that Mom always put the dandelions we'd pick for her as kids.
In the "Holiday Room" we immediately spotted the Halloween candle holders with the tiny mice glued on them and the wooden, brightly painted Easter flowers mom pulled out for display every year.
The next room was filled with tables loaded with glassware... and mom's juice glasses, butter dishes, and tea cups as well as several small crystal bowls, mason jars and votive candles.
We stopped by the "Elegant Elephants" room-- Which loosely translated means "the expensive but hideously ugly donated stuff they didn't know where else to put" and there we spotted Mom's over-sized glass angel dressed in a wonky pink and blue glittered gown and appearing to fly like Peter Pan. I'm pretty sure mom would have called the angel an "Elephant" too but never revealed which family member gave it to her and always had it displayed in her living room.
From room to room we went, seeing residents who asked us if we were our mother's daughters because we look so much like her. Staff members hugged us and told us with tears in their eyes how much they missed our Mom's positive attitude and sense of humor.
And we continued to "shop" room by room.
But we didn't.
"Shop" that is. We were really just looking for our mother's things.
In the end, we bought all of our mother's "stuff" that we could find at the Rummage Sale... the stuff we brokenheartedly donated because we all had already brought so much of our mother's cherished possessions to our own home when she passed.
Mom's things at the Rummage Sale were just too hard to see left behind. Silly, I know, but my sisters and I came home with a carload of our mother's possessions... that we paid for... because we couldn't bear to leave them, or her, behind at the Rummage Sale.
Welcome to www.TheFiftyFactor.com - Joanna Jenkins
Photo Credit: © Kellis - Fotolia.com
Oh my, Joanna. I can only imaging all that you were feeling seeing your Mom's things at that sale. Of course you had to take them with you, regardless of what you had previously kept. I was so young when my mom died that I don't have many of her things but I do cherish those that I do have.
ReplyDeleteWhen I realized what you were going to see when you walked in (I'm a little slow on the uptake) my hand flew to my mouth and I audibly took in air. I can only imagine what that must have done to you.
ReplyDeleteI'll bet you were exhausted at the end of that day.
Sherry
I am in tears. It's so true that we just don't put together the different parts of our lives, we compartmentalize them to make them easier to deal with. My heart goes out to you and your sisters. I'm glad you got there early and got those place mats. You wrote this so wonderfully, but it's a heartbreaker.
ReplyDeleteJoanna, this is such a touching, tearful post. I could sense it coming a few paragraphs in. I'm sorry the day turned out to be so difficult for you and your sister but clearly, you were meant to hold onto your mother's items for at least a little while longer. Hugs to you.
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry it wasn't the same fun experience... but I think it was a lovely one just the same.
ReplyDelete(((hugs)))
wow, I think I will stop collecting so much stuff now...just to think what the future holds...So sad for your experience.
ReplyDeleteOh Joanna, I can't imagine going through that. I know that I would be just like you and would buy back what I donated. Those sentimental attachments can make things so hard to part with.
ReplyDeleteI'm sorry it turned out to be such a hard time.
oy, what a time eh/...and sohard to see the things you once donated and know that they were your moms...hard....
ReplyDeleteI have held on to some of my mother's, father's, brother's, and mother-in-law's things, so I completely understand what you might be feeling. Loss is never easy, and dear Joanna, yours is still really recent.
ReplyDeleteI've been downsizing somewhat, and had to face the reality that some things had to go. So I hold on to the things that I truly treasure and love and use. As hard as it is to get rid of the rest, it isn't them and it won't bring them back. (deep breath) I miss them every day.
Thank you for sharing your experience darling Joanna. I hope the love you & your sisters share supports and comforts you. xo d
Like you, I gasped when you said you saw the placemats. And like you and your sisters, I would have bought every single thing that was hers. To keep, to give to someone who knew her and loved her. I can't imagine how difficult that must have been, especially with so recent a loss.
ReplyDeleteI would have been a bucket of tears at the first stop. Then on a mission.
My heart aches for your loss. I send you wishes of peace and healing.
Eleven months? Eleven years? It doesn't matter with the deep emotions. I really like the way you wrote this post. Of course, it had me thinking of my parents things they left. That saying about not being able to take it with you when you go has a whole other meaning for the children and their memories.
ReplyDeleteall the best
Not silly at all ... cut right to the heart. Thanks for the wonderful piece.
ReplyDeleteOh, Joanna, what a shock. And a mix of sadness and warm loving memories. I came over here after seeing your comment on DJan's blog about tap dancing. Do it! I took it up last year, at age 70, and it's great fun...the only exercise I've ever really enjoyed. Wish I had started a little sooner, just to keep my knees and ankles stronger. Hope you give it a try!
ReplyDeleteOh, I am so sorry. WHat a beautifully written and poignant tale.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for kind words about Oscar.
OMG, what a shock. I inhaled. Oh, painful, unexpected, so exhausting. I am so sorry!!!!
ReplyDeleteI wasn't sure what to think when I first started reading, but when I realized....my heart broke a little bit for you. Like Ami...{{{hugs}}}
ReplyDeleteHaving lost my mother, too, I can well imagine the shock and sadness you must have felt. I love that you bought back all of her things. Big hugs.
ReplyDeleteWhat a touching, poignant story.
ReplyDeleteAnd what a difficult experience for you.
Im so sorry but also happy that you have those treasure back and memories of you Mom live on. ((Hugs))
ReplyDeleteJoanna, my heart breaks for you and your sisters. It's difficult to let go of some things that remind us so much of the one we love. When my mom passed so suddenly, I brought home her purse, wallet and house coat. The purse and wallet are still where I tucked them away 15 years ago. I never go into the cupboard because I know they're there and I still can't let them go so I choose not to deal with it and avoid them altogether. Her house coat is in a bag in the garage in another cupboard. In my first intense mourning of her I would open the bag and sink my nose into the pink plush fabric when I needed my mom to be around me. It's okay to have remembrances and the 'stuff'. It's comforting. In time, we may choose to let it go or not. It's whatever we need to do at that particular moment. It's okay.
ReplyDeleteMy thoughts are with you.
Oh. You had me at the zipping open bags for tissues. I cannot imagine how sorrowful this would be. Hugs to you.
ReplyDeleteYou have taken a difficult experience/topic and written about it beautifully. I would have bought it all too.
ReplyDelete26 years and this made me cry. you have my heart, sweet pea. xxoxoxo
ReplyDeleteI don't blame you. I would have bought a lot of it as well.
ReplyDeleteI have a lump in my throat after reading this. Moving on is so hard. I still have my Mom but my Dad has passed. A day seldom passes that I don't think of him...Enjoy all the "things" you brought home. What's the hurry? ((HUGS))
ReplyDeleteOh my dear, I do know how you feel. It is so hard isn't it? Somehow I think it gets worse not better as time passes. I talk to my father all the time. And because he appears on my blog (and the posts pop up under current posts) it is a constant reminder. That is why I could never close my blog down because strangely it is like he is there. I know that sounds like I should be committed, doesn't it? Mum gave me some of Dad's things. I love having them. they are not functional, or things I even like or could even but somehow it is comforting. I know it's just stuff and I know we have our memories in our hearts but those possessions hold stories of their own. It is hard to let go. It is wonderful you are so close to your sisters and have such a loving family. It speaks volumes of your parents. We are so very lucky really.
ReplyDeleteoh jj- i´m sending you a big hug. sad, but beautiful at the same time.
ReplyDeletexoxo
That sounds painful. I'm sorry.
ReplyDeleteOh, Joanna, here I am sitting in India, sobbing. I feel so about that experience. Sadly, with my three sons, when I finally exit this earth, none of my three sons will fill any nostalgia about my belongings, most of which they refer to as "junk" - when I downsized from the four bedroom house I'd rented for nearly 20 years and put the treasures, with which I couldn't bear to part, in a 20' by 10' storage unit, very few of my things were taken by any of my 3 sons. When my mother went to a nursing home in GA before she died, my youngest son, the most sentimental of the three, took her china and her recipe box. My daughter-in-law took her sterling and a set of my formal china. I don't know what will happen to the rest of my cherished "junk" when/if I finally settle down and get a small apartment & stop running back and forth to India.
ReplyDeleteOh, Joanna, here I am sitting in India, sobbing. I feel so about that experience. Sadly, with my three sons, when I finally exit this earth, none of my three sons will fill any nostalgia about my belongings, most of which they refer to as "junk" - when I downsized from the four bedroom house I'd rented for nearly 20 years and put the treasures, with which I couldn't bear to part, in a 20' by 10' storage unit, very few of my things were taken by any of my 3 sons. When my mother went to a nursing home in GA before she died, my youngest son, the most sentimental of the three, took her china and her recipe box. My daughter-in-law took her sterling and a set of my formal china. I don't know what will happen to the rest of my cherished "junk" when/if I finally settle down and get a small apartment & stop running back and forth to India.
ReplyDelete