Indeed - why didn't I ask more questions? My mother died last month and although I did try, during these past three years, to query about her life and remember the good times, there's still a lot I didn't know. My consolation is, in part, that I was present to and with her.
These details of juice glasses and back porch picnics and late night talks and more all combine to make me ache for a place I never visited or even saw in a passing car.
Same - I'm lucky enough to have had moments that elicit the same feelings of welcome and acceptance, peace and immediacy, yet this makes me yearn for the security of knowing such a place is always waiting for me when I crave/need it. How wonderful to have had that, and how hard it must be to let it go, juice glass by juice glass.
I am in the position of not having a "home" that is mine anymore. I live in furnished condo for 8 months in Florida and with friends in Baja, Mexico for 3 months, and visit friends for 1 month. Everyone says it must feel great to be without possessions and nothing tying me down. It does not. Although I have a small storage unit in which I keep art I'm not ready to part with, photos, some books, and boxes of papers, my "fancy" clothes I never wear, and bring some of that into the condo each time I come back, I miss having things around that I shopped for and bought over the years. I do like seeing my things in the homes of friends and family though, so when I visit, there they are--not lost or gone yet. My sons and granddaughters ask no questions--they do not yet realize the day will come when they will want to know more. But I try to tell them stories anyway because I know that when you lose someone, you want more of them.
All so true. I don't know if there are enough questions to ask that would give a big enough picture. We keep trundling through time, and everything keeps changing. Sending love to you all as you live through this important change.
It must be sad to see all those delightful possessions go, but think how they will gladden the hearts of other collectors! Loving all things vintage as I do, I would be in heaven if I visited that house.
I think many of us will have relatives in this position someday. I know I put a great deal of emotional attachment on my special possessions, yet I hope that someday these items (none particularly valuable) will mean something to someone - even just knowing me better. When my mother passed away, it was a privilege for Lynn and me to touch, reminisce and occasionally let go of tangible memories of Mother and her mother, too.
Based on what you've written I can tell what a special place their house was and what important people they were to you. If I had a jet, I'd be up at that sale in a jiffy.
I need 0 things as someone also trying to pack up a house but MAN I want to come to the big sale just to look at all those amazing collections ❤️🩹
Oh, I know. It was fascinating to go through everything.
Same.
Indeed - why didn't I ask more questions? My mother died last month and although I did try, during these past three years, to query about her life and remember the good times, there's still a lot I didn't know. My consolation is, in part, that I was present to and with her.
I’m sorry for your loss, Carol.
These details of juice glasses and back porch picnics and late night talks and more all combine to make me ache for a place I never visited or even saw in a passing car.
Same - I'm lucky enough to have had moments that elicit the same feelings of welcome and acceptance, peace and immediacy, yet this makes me yearn for the security of knowing such a place is always waiting for me when I crave/need it. How wonderful to have had that, and how hard it must be to let it go, juice glass by juice glass.
You’ve hit the nail on the head, Beth.
Thanks, Jennifer.
I am in the position of not having a "home" that is mine anymore. I live in furnished condo for 8 months in Florida and with friends in Baja, Mexico for 3 months, and visit friends for 1 month. Everyone says it must feel great to be without possessions and nothing tying me down. It does not. Although I have a small storage unit in which I keep art I'm not ready to part with, photos, some books, and boxes of papers, my "fancy" clothes I never wear, and bring some of that into the condo each time I come back, I miss having things around that I shopped for and bought over the years. I do like seeing my things in the homes of friends and family though, so when I visit, there they are--not lost or gone yet. My sons and granddaughters ask no questions--they do not yet realize the day will come when they will want to know more. But I try to tell them stories anyway because I know that when you lose someone, you want more of them.
You are a wise woman, Judy.
All so true. I don't know if there are enough questions to ask that would give a big enough picture. We keep trundling through time, and everything keeps changing. Sending love to you all as you live through this important change.
Big hugs to you, Sally.
I love this and it makes me want to ask everyone questions now! My mom has been gone nearly 40 years and I so wish I'd asked more.
It's a good reminder for all of us to ask questions now, if we can.
"Why didn't I ask more questions?" That is the question, for sure.
I remember the Big Sale of my Aunt Ruthie's home and furnishings with lots of collectibles. Thanks for sparking memories!
You’re welcome!
It must be sad to see all those delightful possessions go, but think how they will gladden the hearts of other collectors! Loving all things vintage as I do, I would be in heaven if I visited that house.
I thought of you, Elinor, when I found an especially sweet tablecloth.
I feel this so deeply ❤️🩹
Thanks, Elizabeth.
I think many of us will have relatives in this position someday. I know I put a great deal of emotional attachment on my special possessions, yet I hope that someday these items (none particularly valuable) will mean something to someone - even just knowing me better. When my mother passed away, it was a privilege for Lynn and me to touch, reminisce and occasionally let go of tangible memories of Mother and her mother, too.
So very true, Karen.
Based on what you've written I can tell what a special place their house was and what important people they were to you. If I had a jet, I'd be up at that sale in a jiffy.
The salt and pepper shakers. A household of tchotkes, each with a story. So hard to let it go.