Still Picking Up The Pieces

For the last few weeks, I have been sorting through the tangible personal property (to use a legal phrase) of Aunt Ginger's life. I had weeded out a lot of items ranging from knickknacks and furniture to kitchenware and linens when she moved from her apartment of almost 40 years to assisted living 18 months ago, and then downsized her belongings again when she moved from assisted living to memory care. All the same, there was a surprising number of items yet to move to our house and sort through.

Some items were easy to move to new homes. Ginger collected angels for many years and wanted friends and family to take one with them after her death. So we set them out at the gathering we held in her memory with this sign:

By the end of the evening, the last angel flew out the door.

Other items required more careful sorting. Ginger had a desk (which went to my brother per her wishes and her will, which will likely not be probated at any point), but I had to empty it out first. That proved to be fun. 50+ pencils, many of them promotional, many of them unsharpened: into the box of Goodwill items. 20+ small, blue, ancient rubber bands, all at the point of crumbling: trash. Mementos from family events: an article about my brother, my son Benjamin's high school graduation program: those will go to the individuals featured (sorry, Ben). Opened envelopes from cards sent years ago (without the cards): recycling.

And then there were the clothes.

Ginger owned lots of clothes. Lots and lots. She took excellent care of her clothes and so items often lasted for decades. But she also liked to shop for clothes. She was never a spendthrift or very extravagant, everything she owned was probably bought on sale or secondhand, but over the last few decades her wardrobe grew.

And grew.

And grew.

When I brought home the remaining clothes, the ones from the dresser and the ones from the closet, I had to use two beds in two separate bedrooms to accommodate them all. It was not unlike the scene in An Old-Fashioned Girl (one of Louisa May Alcott's books) in which Polly performs a thrifty makeover of Fan's wardrobe: Fanny brought out her "rags" and was astonished to see how many she had, for chair, sofa, bed, and bureau were covered, and still Maude, who was burrowing in the closets, kept crying, "Here's another!" 

For the first few weeks, the clothes just sat in heaps and bundles. I had other matters demanding my attention and, honestly, my heart wasn't ready to deal with the clothing. But finally the disorder overcame my reluctance, and I started folding and sorting and washing (some pieces had dried food and other stains on them; I treated and washed those out, throwing away only the few that would not come clean). Garbage bags piling up on the floor of my study replaced the heaps of clothing.

We have a local community agency, Common Ground Free Store Ministries, which is exactly what it sounds like. It is a free store, free to all, open to all. It opened 12 years ago to serve our community with this mission: It's amazing how something as simple as providing clothing and household items to people in need can help open new doors in their lives. We provide a place to meet everyday needs for the people of Delaware. 

What better place to donate Ginger's clothes? And it was even more fitting because the store is located on the East side of our town (the "other" side of town) only three blocks from where Ginger (and all her siblings) grew up (as did I and my siblings until I was in high school) and where Ginger lived until she was almost 50.

This was my car back seat and trunk this morning before I left:

A half-full backseat...

...and a FULL trunk! 

(The red coat just visible in the back of the trunk was Ginger's favorite. It was a number of years old and in immaculate condition. I hope to see it again on someone else around town!)

It took me a good ten or more minutes to unload my car when I got to Common Ground. When I was through, my car looked like this:

My backseat is back again! 

And so is my trunk! 

 I spoke with one of the volunteers as I unloaded and told her the source of the clothing. "I'm so sorry for your loss," she said. "I am too," I said. "But trust me, my aunt would be thrilled to know her stuff will be going to others who can use it."

And she would have been.

And so am I.