When I started this blog, someone gave me the advice to say whatever I wanted. I promised myself I wouldn't just "put it all out there" and "admit to strangers" what my family and friends are all too familiar with. Here I go, breaking that promise.
One of the most frequent questions I hear, in my world, is "What difference does it make?" Every time I get all OCD, worry or cry over something, the question gets asked, again, and is usually followed with, "Why do you let it upset you?"
This question is raised on many different aspects of my life, below is just one.
I am frugal and a saver, by nature. I am also a very sentimental person. When my beloved memories began to disappear, or, I should say started becoming hard to retrieve, I began saving "things". Things were my way to pry the memories out of my failing brain. It may not give me a complete memory, might be just a glimpse, but I'll take what I can get. (The saving of things has gotten more out of control than I care to admit)
Becoming orphaned 13 years ago, when my parents died 3 weeks apart, took a toll on me. I don't have many "things" of theirs, but what I do have, I cherish.
Coming across a card signed by my Mom... who for many years before her death was unable to write, and eventually unable to walk, talk or move on her own... that means something to ME.
Cards signed by my Dad, when my Mom could no longer do it... that means something to ME.
Furniture and mementos, inherited down through the years, from family no longer living... that means something to ME.
When I get upset and cry because someone in the family is trying to get rid of an item belonging to a person I cherished that is no longer living and I can't make room for anymore "things"... please don't ask me "What difference does it make? (In the grand scheme of things, probably none) "Why do you let it upset you?" (If I had a choice, do you think I would choose to be upset?)
"My house may be crowded... my memories are not."