No matter what you believe about what happens after you die, everyone can agree that you can’t take your “stuff” with you. As we clean out my dad’s apartment it reminds me that so much of his “stuff” is just “stuff”. There are lots of old pictures – those I find valuable because of the sentimental meaning – there were lots of old articles, magazines and papers that had dust on them and hadn’t been read in ages. There were many books: some contemporary and some very old. Many “chachkas” – little knick knacks. Some artifacts from his earlier life when he travelled the world with my mom. We took many of those and split them up among us kids.
So yes, while “stuff” matters, for me most of it has to do with its sentimental value. There are some valuables too. But what is valuable? And what do you do with these things? Keep them, show them, sell them?
We live in a society that values “stuff”, that values “things”. We are told that we do want, should want more, more, more. That what we have is never enough. The wealthier we are the more things we should have and the happier we should be. But do all those things make you richer inside? Do they make you happier? I don’t know about that. And when is enough enough? Is it ever enough?
In the end, when you die, you cannot physically take it with you. It’s impossible. You get buried or cremated or vaulted. But your stuff stays behind. Think about it. How much of my “stuff” really matters? What will happen to it all? How much of your “stuff” and my “stuff” really matters in the end?
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- Baked Banana Bread, Chocolate Chip Banana Bread, Cinnamon Coffee Cakes and Blueberry tarts for the farmer's markets!
4 weeks ago from FacebookScooped out small scoops of cookie dough and made small cookies which we filled with rice dream ice treat (for me)... http://fb.me/DwUrTpfD
1 month ago from Facebook
May 29, 2010
You Can’t Take it With You
May 12, 2010
May 10, 2010
I MISS MY MOM
It’s been 24 years since she died but the ache does not ever go away. I miss my mom. I wish she were here. I wish she could have known my kids. I wish they could have known her. I wish I could have shared the past 24 years of my life with her. I wish she could still give me advice. I think of her often and of course on mother’s day.
I remember being a child in my mom’s kitchen, sitting with my 80-something grandmother. Nanny was reminiscing about her own mom, crying about missing her mom who had died over 40 years prior. I remembering wondering what it would be like to love someone so much that you would cry over them 40 years later. I learned what that would be like 24 years ago. I think of Nanny a lot. I remember her with love and admiration.
I remember my Aunt Pearl, mom’s sister. She was a very smart, very sharp woman. Pearl talked non stop. She asked tons and tons of questions. She wanted to know everything. Her passion for life, for her children, for her family, her nieces, nephews and grandchildren was insatiable. She was a wise woman who left me with many poignant learnings and memories.
Ma is another strong, wise woman who came into my life when I met my then boyfriend who became my husband. She was a happy, spirited, fun and wise woman who cared deeply about the world. She opened her house to everyone and always made people feel welcome. I learned many lessons from her.
All of these strong women’s blood and ancestry run through my veins and in my heart. I know that they are with me and my children. I feel them surrounding me often. I love them and pay tribute to them every day.