Thursday, June 6, 2013

Bam!.........YOUR DEAD! Diane Ogden

Have you ever "wondered" what would happen to your home and your belongings when you DIE?
Some people would say, "Who cares, it's just stuff."  Others might feel or hope a few of their possessions would go to those who would care. Maybe even care about the items.  For instance I have a beautiful red velvet tufted duck down cushion love seat that was my Nana's.  I slept on it when I was four. I have a French Ottoman that was my Grandmother's.   A plant stand that was my Great Grandmother's....My Grandfather's dog tags and  aviator sunglasses that don't have a scratch on them.
Some jewelry, hair combs from the 40's, a pair of size 4 hunting boots from Nana, (I didn't get the bear rug from the bear she shot).  Old 35 mm slides,  and so on. 

I have seen and heard more times than I care to about a parent dying and the children whisk into the home and bag it all up and call a truck to come dispose of it.  It is meaningless to them because they didn't ever take the time to look or ask.  A blind man would have seen more than most of what I heard from these people regarding the personal possessions of their beloved Mother or Father.  The worst is when they take the photos and if they do not recognize the person.....TRASH.  I can understand if there are no other family members left to view the photos.  Why am I talking like this?  Because today I spoke to an old friend whose mother in law died.  The couple drove a few hours to her cabin and in one day bagged and trashed the entire place.  They cleaned it also which is the good side of the story.  Comments were made like, 'She just had a lot of junk, nothing of value!"  I thought I should climb through the phone and personally choke her for such disrespectful words.  While in the meantime I was looking at my great room thinking, OMG I don't really have anything worth a lot of money or value do I?  I was imagining my children coming in here with trash bags and stuffing and jabbing all my worldly possessions into big black TRASH bags and the big green garbage truck coming for them.  The photos, hair combs, the sweater I wanted so badly and waited until it went on sale to finally get it.  The CD I made for my children to let them know I could sing.  My report cards from first grade through graduation. The rings my son made me in art class.  My daughters baby shoes, and so on. The awards for being top salesperson in the company, top sales team in the company, executive leadership club.  The gold goblets, gold ware, award plaques, the Oscar.....
where will they go?  Will anyone look at them and know I was an executive leader once. Will anyone know that lamp was the second thing I ever bought when I started working after the children were born?  Or the ring was the first thing I bought for myself.  Will anyone look at the video's on my computer.  Or listen to the voice recorder on my Mr. Phone where/who I tell funny stories to. Will they check my contacts list and notify anyone?  Or will they just HURRY and stuff it all in bags, look around, and say, "There's really nothing of real value here."  Drive to the funeral home, talk cremation.  Cook or order some food and get it over with so we can get back to golfing and such. That is pretty much what I have seen and it sucks.  I wouldn't do that to anyone.  I would show respect.  I didn't get one item that was my fathers.  Not a shirt, not a cuff link, not a nadda.  I wanted to make all the Grands a quilt from his clothes.  The guys a throw pillow with "Papa" embroidered in one corner.  I wanted to make him a life book with all the cards and beautiful worded letters from people.  But they got thrown away like trash.  Yes I am upset at the words spoken to me today from that old friend about her mother-in-law.  She's gone.  But her spirit lives on.  I know I know.  Its just stuff.  Things.  But I also have a friend from grade school who wrote a little book called, "All Things Have a Voice!"  by Pamela Adger. People need to be still and listen to the things and the animals more often... Because all things have a voice. 

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