We'd been married for about 6 months and I was pregnant with Krystopher- I was in that nesting stage.
Ok- I have to give you some of the backstory about our lives before we married just so you can get context.
Sheldon had lived in his house for quite some time- and he hated to throw anything out. He had boxes of power cords and piles of car manuals and containers of "stuff" that he just couldn't discard- in case- you know, he needed it one day. Me? I was just finishing up a uni degree and everything I owned could fit in the boot of my '79 Corolla.
And so the two became one. I moved my one box and suitcase into his/our house... fast forward 6 months and here's the situation.
I'm ready to nest.
I'm looking to clear out the "stuff" and make room for baby.
Sheldon has to go away for work for a few days and I decide (in my pregnant wisdom) that I would use the opportunity of an absent husband to have a spring clean- and when I say spring clean, I mean spring it on him- "Surprise... empty house!!! Clutter free!!!"
Well- I started in the kitchen.
Oh- the kitchen.
He had 75 plates.
32 cups.
156 saucepans.
I exaggerate slightly- but you get the picture.
My theory was and still is- you can fit three baking dishes into the oven at any one time- so three baking dishes is all you need.
And so I took my theory and I put it to work.
I de-cluttered.
First the kitchen.
And then the office.
Oh- that man and his office.
If the zombie apocalypse ever happened- rest assured that you could find enough white paper, envelopes, pens and staplers in the office of one Sheldon Gakowski to write a million disgruntled letters to the Zombie invaders.
I loved the man fiercely, but oh my goodness he had some frustrating qualities. (She says smugly, because after all- she is practically perfect in every way.)
And his capacity to hoard (there- I said it!) was one of those infuriating qualities.
So here I am- newly married, pregnant and so incredibly proud of the way I'd revolutionised our cupboards and rooms.
I'd even found time to potter in the garden and get rid of all of the weeds.
Cue the husbands return.
Everything smells like Mr. Sheen furniture polish. The garden beds are dark with freshly turned soil. The cupboards are beautifully clutter free.
And he is simmering mad.
It starts slowly.
A bewildered shake of the head.
A shocked look.
"Where. Are. My Grandmothers. Plates."
He says it slowly.
"Ummmmmmmm.... what?"
He continues... through the rooms. Opening empty cupboards and looking for his "stuff".
"And what the hell did you do to the gardens? Why did you pull out all of the plants??"
Apparently the "weeds" that I had painstakingly removed were actually succulent groundcover plants- as in, real, actual plants. Who knew?
Let's just say that I learnt a lot about my darling husband and his connection to the "stuff" that I had discarded. He forgave me- and we ended up laughing about it years later. In fact, every time we moved house, I would get into "throw it!!" mode. And he would stand guard at the door, checking over what I was deeming throw-able.
And this last week has been epic.
Sheldon never lost his capacity to hold onto "stuff".
Our carport has been full of boxes of manuals for tractors and folders full of "stuff" that he just couldn't part with- and trust me, I learnt my lesson all those years ago with Grandmother's plates.
And so for the past 10 months, I have locked the door to the study and the carport and ignored the "stuff".
But it weighed me.
And while I craved for a clutter free existence, I was aware that the removal of the "stuff" was also the removal of physicality. His boxes of folders, his containers of odds and ends.
And so I ignored.
Until last week- when I could ignore no longer.
I have reached a new place in this path of grief and transition.
I'm ready to let go of the physicality of the "stuff".
You all know Aunty Heather- the personification of kindness in those last long, painful months of the goodbye.
Well, I called her again last week...and she arrived.
She organised my linen cupboard and did the baskets of ironing that were piling up.
And then, I said- "You know that show Hoarders??" as I unlocked the study door.
And then Aunty Heather went to work.
She started by holding up every object- "Keep or throw?"
She soon discovered that, unless it was obviously precious- throw it.
I have discovered that the physical "stuff" is not him.
Throw it.
Let it go.
It has been cathartic and cleansing to empty and to clean away.
And while I have sorted and discarded, I have felt my heart lighten with each load that has existed my front door.
The physicality of "stuff" is not the only changes I've made.
I'm taking a step back from work- I'm transitioning from full time to part time.
I need to find a balance and it's just not here at the moment.
I'm going to focus on being PRESENT for my three champion sons.
Not just a physical, adult presence in the house- but actually PRESENT.
And, for now, that means that I need to step back from work.
Now- for those of you who know me well, this has been a tough call on some level. I adore my work. I find validation in my work.
But I'm learning a lesson here-
It's ok to take what you need when you need it.
Life is forgiving and people will step up and lean in. They will stand in the gap when there is gap to be filled.
And right now- I need to take time.
Time is a precious commodity.
And so I'm taking time..
Listen- life is amazing and horrible and beautiful and fraught with ebbs and flows.
And it's here, to be grabbed and felt and consumed.
It's too short, this life we live- to be weighed with "stuff".
The release of his "stuff" has not meant a diminishing of him.
He is, and forever will be, so much more than a box of manuals or a cupboard of plates.
He is the tilt of my sons head and the resonance of my eldest boys laugh.
That's where I see him.
Not in the "stuff, but in the flesh and blood of his legacy.
Find the precious- and treasure it.
Find the important- and value it.
Find the moments- and be present.
Find the release from the weight of "stuff"- be it physical or internal: and just be free.
And in the words of Princess Elsa: "LET IT GO!!"
