Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The day you clean out your dad's place


This morning, we started cleaning out my dad's apartment. I haven't been there since the last time I saw him.

The finality of his death hit me the second I walked in the door. It hit me when I touched his slippers by the bed, when I saw the recliner chair I'd bought for him last year and his bottles of medication, when we opened the fridge and there was the jarred fruit he liked to eat for breakfast, when I held his eyeglasses in my hand. Until today, I hadn't felt that kind of pain from his death, the kind that makes your chest hurt and feel a little suffocated.

There is a lot of stuff to dig through. I mean, a LOT. There were countless new shirts, still in their cellophane packaging; never-used belts and socks; new shoes still in their boxes. If ever there was anyone fully prepared for Armageddon, it was my dad. Donating it all to charity is going to feel really good, so we can enable the masses to dress stylishly for Armageddon.

My dad kept every single birthday and Father's Day card from me and my sister; we often gave him ones with car themes, because of his beloved Volvo. I also found all the postcards and letters we sent from college and trips. Once, I visited him at his office (he was an accountant); as we were leaving, I snuck back and left a "Hi, Daddy!" love note on his chair for him to find in the morning. He kept that, too, and on it he wrote the date.

Because there is always laughter, we laughed. Like when we discovered Dad's collection of plastic bread bag clasps in a kitchen cupboard, a bunch dating back to when bread was under a buck a loaf.


If he were around, I would have mercilessly teased him about them.


We unearthed all sorts of lists, like this 1975 packing list for a trip. Right on top: pipes and tobacco. My dad was into health food (note the millet, sesame seeds, soy granules, and sunflower seeds) but for years, he smoked a pipe. I never liked the smell of it when it was lit but I adored the scent wafting from the open bins of tobacco in the store where he bought his supply.

Sure enough, I found his collection of pipes. And a 45 record of Rhinestone Cowboy, a song he loved. Photos of him in his single days on a cruise—the S.S. Nassau—looking handsome and happy, surrounded by ladies. "At least I hope it was when he was single," I joked to my mom.

The clothes in his closets and the ones hanging on his bedroom door were the hardest to deal with. His winter windbreaker still had his scent. We couldn't bear to go through them this time around, but there will be many more trips.

I took home Dad's 1934 Singer sewing machine that sat in his foyer, right by the front door. Also, one of his shirts, a red plaid one he loved. I'm wearing it right now, and remembering.

27 comments:

  1. Oh, Ellen ... what a special post. It's obvious you have such love for your dad and - by what he saved, he obviously loved his family very much. Thanks for sharing a bit of your dad with us. (Love the collection of plastic bread clasps!)

    A cousin of mine is going through the same thing (cleaning out her dad's house). I might just share this with her.

    ReplyDelete
  2. This is heartstabbing. We're going to be doing the Sam at my mother's house one day.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Ellen, what a lovely post. What a tribute to your dad. I understand how hard it must be-- my husband's grandmother died one year and nine months ago, and her children (including my mother-in-law) have still not gone through her things. Clearly it's painful. But sounds like it can also bring memories of your loved one back in a wonderful way. Maybe I'll send them your post and nudge them towards giving it a shot, at last.

    ReplyDelete
  4. What a sweet, touching post. Reading this reminded me of when my grandparents went into a nursing home and my dad and aunt had to clean out the house before it was sold. My dad still has a lot of my Pop's Army belongings, and, since he has no sons, my dad has been slowly passing things on to my male cousins. I got many pieces of my Gram's jewelry which to this day (she's been gone for 10 yrs) still have the scent of her perfume on them.

    ReplyDelete
  5. I can hardly type for the tears, Ellen. Lost my dad six months ago, and my sisters cleaned up his clothes and meds and put them away the day after he passed away. We went through such agony watching him dying that last week that it was important to all of us to rearrange his room and air out the house to be able to walk through without looking down the hall and seeing him in that hospital bed in our minds. There's still stuff to be sorted down the road, things he had stashed in the basement, boxes of stuff he packed up years ago and nobody really knows what's in them. What bittersweet memories you have. We never outgrow being Daddy's little girl, do we?

    ReplyDelete
  6. I'm new to your blog but just so very moved by this post. It was so beautiful and evocative. Your father's personality really comes through. I was most touched by his saving of all the notes, even the one on his office chair. I don't even know you or your dad but that brings tears to my eyes. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings about your dad and his passing.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Thanks so much for sharing such an intimate part yourself. It's a wonderful post and one of my favorites. As parents we are so focused on taking care of our kids, it's nice to reflect on the time when someone took care of us. Magical really. Lots of love to you, friend. You and your Dad were so lucky to have each other.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Thanks for sharing, such a touching post, makes me remember my dad too...

    help for single Dads

    ReplyDelete
  9. Keep a shirt, preferable something oversized and comfy like a sweat shirt or a sweater, that smells like him. You'll need it. Trust me.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Never mind, you already did. I read half the post, got teary, had to stop, made my comment, then went back to finish.

    ReplyDelete
  11. What a beautiful post. Your mutual love is clear. It's a difficult thing to do, all the best.

    ReplyDelete
  12. Awwwww -- Ellen. Thanks so much for sharing this. I could relate SO MUCH to what you wrote.

    I did the same thing with a sweater my dad had at the hospital. I took it home and wore it all the time (it even has a hole in it now).

    What an amazing man your dad was, and what beautiful, enduring memories he has left you with.

    xo

    ReplyDelete
  13. For you and your sister and each grandchild it would be nice to make a memory bear out of clothing he wore regularly. It's a nice fun way to keep his memory close to your heart.

    Thank you for expressing in words what I as an accountant do not have to talent to accomplish.

    ReplyDelete
  14. Sweet. Simple. I love that you found humor and love and more in his home. :) hugs.

    ReplyDelete
  15. That was very beautiful and touching. Sounds like you were and are all part of a special family.
    Mitch

    ReplyDelete
  16. Beautiful posting, Ellen. You have some really classic memories (bread tags - hysterical!) to cherish. Your words reflect the profound love you have for your special dad. XO

    ReplyDelete
  17. I am so sorry for your loss. Thank you for sharing some of the stuff that made your dad so special.

    ReplyDelete
  18. Your picture and the description of the bread tags made me smile...my dad was very much like yours in that way. Having lost both my parents in the last 4 years, I know the pain you're going through. My heart goes out to you...

    ReplyDelete
  19. I just want to send my condolences to you ellen and your family! May you find comfort in those things that remind you of your dad

    ReplyDelete
  20. This hits me particularly hard. When my dad passed, I was only nineteen and things with the family got very ugly, very quickly. It was an incredibly painful time in my life and tore me away from that side of my family.

    Cherish the memories you have because sometimes, they're all you have.

    All my love...

    ReplyDelete
  21. What a beautiful post, Ellen, and a fantastic tribute to your dad. We just recently went on vacation to Florida and stayed in my grandma's old apartment that our family had kept, and it was super hard. I can definitely relate to the feelings - thanks for putting everything into such beautiful words.

    ReplyDelete
  22. My mom still wears her grandmother's sweaters. They are quite old and mended/remended, but they are a link to the past and her memories of the time she spent as a little girl with her gran.

    ReplyDelete
  23. "There will be many trips."

    There sure will--both to the apartment and, over the years, down memory lane. Don't spare the horses--talk about your dad as often as you feel able, particularly with family who knew him. People don't really die if you keep them in your memory, though the pain of not having them around can hurt like hell at times.

    It does get easier--one day you will discover you can talk and laugh and remember without having any moments of that heavy heartache and a need to cry. Takes time, though. Don't rush it--it's all part of a process.

    ReplyDelete
  24. Beautiful post Ellen...it hit home hard. I lost my Mom nine years ago to cancer and had to clean out all of her belongings, it was too hard on my Dad. It was so hard to do, all the memories come flooding in and I felt that same pain in my chest, so hard to describe. She was a great Mom, and I think about her every day! Your Dad sounded like quite character, with lots of love for his family! I love the bread clasps and his beloved car stories! My Dad is getting older and has many health problems, so I cherish each visit with him!

    ReplyDelete
  25. I have 2 shirts that were my Dad's, too. Love wearing them. Still miss him, too. Barbara

    ReplyDelete
  26. I know how hard it is to clean up the things that once belonged to your loved one. It is agonizing and I am so sorry that you had to go through it. There will be wonderful things that you will save and you'll be happy to have them bc they will make your dad feel closer. Then there will be the bread clips that you are obviously not going to keep but they will pain you to throw them away. Just remember that the memories are really what will last you for the rest of your life. You will always have them and that will keep your dad in your heart.

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for sharing!



Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...