Blog archive November 2025
06.11.25 / 01 / collecting
Back in the summer I went through the contents of my mother’s house, to see what there was in cupboards and the attic, to make an inventory and value it for estate purposes. I threw out the junk to clear the ground, but otherwise I didn’t rearrange anything.
Now I am going through it all again, making collections with an eye to give or take away. Things that were scattered are now brought together.
My father’s life is in a large tin. It already was, my mother put it there, but I have added. Boys Brigade badges, cards, certificates, school reports, his drawing instruments, a cigarette case, and so on. My mother’s life is in a box, and a tin, and a bag right now. She kept so many cards - her 21st birthday, wedding, first anniversary - beautiful 1950s cards, bright pinks and baby blues, kitsch, but more delicate and coherent than nowadays. Add in the Golden Wedding cards, the Valentine cards from my father, the sympathy cards when he died. And so on. My mother’s diaries, 30 years or so, are in a drawer, to be gone through sometime. These are things that can’t be thrown out, but they need custodians. Not owners, because they belong to the family and will be passed on. Maybe one day some of these things will go, when they have lost their significance, but not yet.
There are specific legacies to be given, but we need to think about keepsakes for other family members. For me and my brothers, many things come to us naturally. Stuff about us that our parents kept, reports and certificates and photos. Childhood cards we gave that they kept, which now return to us.
I have a list of the furniture - the things we will keep, if we can make space, and the rest. And the many domestic items that are not exactly personal, but are significant or interesting. Part of the home or of our lives. I have to restrain my magpie tendencies and let others have their choice!
It’s emotionally arduous work. It’s a process of dismantling. Drawers are empty, gaps appear on shelves. The fabric of a home begins to dissolve. It’s probably always hard, but this house has been the family home for almost 60 years. It’s not just the last place our parents lived.
