Grandparent's Flatkeeping
The last few days have been busy.
On Tuesday, I finally braved going to my grandparent's flat for the first time since my grandfather died. I knew I had to do it some time, but I was avoiding it like crazy and I think it was slowly destroying me. So I went.
I'd arranged the time to be alone, when the tenants were out at work. Unfortunately, the guy wasn't out at work, so I met him there. Initially, I resented his presence through something so emotionally arduous, but it actually turned out not to be so bad, and we both talked about granddad. It helped us both, and I had someone to give me tissues when the inevitable crying happened. It was actually quite cathartic.
Inevitably, one of the things that needs to be done is that I have to dispose of my grandparent's possessions. It's weird to see someone's life cut short like that and all the stuff they collected, all the things that were theirs during their life, which they valued and wanted, suddenly just become meaningless stuff that needs to be gotten rid of. It's a daunting and harrowing task. How can anyone just do that? Just get rid of it all like it was meaningless, like their lives, now over, meant nothing? Yet that's exactly what needs to happen, because we are not our grandparents and we have different tastes and houses full of our own crap.
It's also scary, because that was the flat I did most of my growing up in. When it goes, there'll be nothing for me to remember my grandparents, or what happened in that flat. Nothing except my own head. Memories fade, though.
A good idea has been to pick some things out to act as mementos, or keepsakes, so I can always remember my grandparents when everything else is gone. I've managed to narrow it down to a few things. There are two houses that A and I used to play with when young. I'd like to take one and give one to A, with her getting first pick. The bigger one was "my" house and the smaller one "her" house, but maybe it should be the other way around now. Either way, they're good things to keep.
There's also an elephant clock I bought for my grandmother. I usually tried buying presents at Christmas once I got to a certain age and I always found both grandparents inordinately hard to buy presents for. One Christmas, I gave up on my grandmother and got her nothing. It turned out she was really upset by this, so after Christmas was over, I bought the elephant clock, which I'd decided, before Christmas, was probably the best thing I could get her. Some £20 in Argos, it wasn't great, but it had pride of place for a long time.
I also want one elephant. My grandmother collected them and then, later, people used to buy her elephants if they saw them while travelling. She has a collection and I want one to remember her by.
On Tuesday, I finally braved going to my grandparent's flat for the first time since my grandfather died. I knew I had to do it some time, but I was avoiding it like crazy and I think it was slowly destroying me. So I went.
I'd arranged the time to be alone, when the tenants were out at work. Unfortunately, the guy wasn't out at work, so I met him there. Initially, I resented his presence through something so emotionally arduous, but it actually turned out not to be so bad, and we both talked about granddad. It helped us both, and I had someone to give me tissues when the inevitable crying happened. It was actually quite cathartic.
Inevitably, one of the things that needs to be done is that I have to dispose of my grandparent's possessions. It's weird to see someone's life cut short like that and all the stuff they collected, all the things that were theirs during their life, which they valued and wanted, suddenly just become meaningless stuff that needs to be gotten rid of. It's a daunting and harrowing task. How can anyone just do that? Just get rid of it all like it was meaningless, like their lives, now over, meant nothing? Yet that's exactly what needs to happen, because we are not our grandparents and we have different tastes and houses full of our own crap.
It's also scary, because that was the flat I did most of my growing up in. When it goes, there'll be nothing for me to remember my grandparents, or what happened in that flat. Nothing except my own head. Memories fade, though.
A good idea has been to pick some things out to act as mementos, or keepsakes, so I can always remember my grandparents when everything else is gone. I've managed to narrow it down to a few things. There are two houses that A and I used to play with when young. I'd like to take one and give one to A, with her getting first pick. The bigger one was "my" house and the smaller one "her" house, but maybe it should be the other way around now. Either way, they're good things to keep.
There's also an elephant clock I bought for my grandmother. I usually tried buying presents at Christmas once I got to a certain age and I always found both grandparents inordinately hard to buy presents for. One Christmas, I gave up on my grandmother and got her nothing. It turned out she was really upset by this, so after Christmas was over, I bought the elephant clock, which I'd decided, before Christmas, was probably the best thing I could get her. Some £20 in Argos, it wasn't great, but it had pride of place for a long time.
I also want one elephant. My grandmother collected them and then, later, people used to buy her elephants if they saw them while travelling. She has a collection and I want one to remember her by.