When I joined the ranks of Women Who Have Outlived Their Husbands, "stuff" took on a whole new meaning. It didn't happen right away, but a year or so after I'd become a widow, I resurfaced into the real world and became aware of my surroundings. There was "stuff" everywhere that needed a decision made regarding it's future. Civil War memorabilia, which I had never shared his fondness for, hung on walls and filled drawers; floor to ceiling bookcases, the shelves sagging under the weight of 28 years worth of National Geographic magazines, gathered dust and got little, if any, other attention. Our collection of lighthouses had grown to ridiculous proportions. NEVER tell your friends and relatives you're a collector of anything! It will ALWAYS get out of hand. These are the terrible treasures. The "stuff" that has value simply because it was his. What would his children think if I disposed of it? What would he think. Guilt. Guilt. Guilt.
Not everything left behind was a terrible treasure. There's the 3-D poster board caricature of his idol, Albert Einstein, created and constructed by his daughter while in a college design class. We called this special piece of "stuff", Big Al. I remember one of the grand kids standing across the room from Big Al, his back against the wall, side-stepping along its length, saying "Hoot, Hoot." Big Al. Big Owl.
Not every household boosts a helms wheel suspended from a ceiling. I can. A favorite thing. In the 50's, my husband's father actually built a paddle wheel boat that cruised upon the Green River in Kentucky. Over the years, the ownership of the boat changed hands several times and its whereabouts became vague, but through a long-lost cousin, the original helms wheel was located and it's become a prized possession - not "stuff" at all.
It's hard to draw the line between favorite things and terrible treasures. In the end, at least in my case, I made the hard decisions and found a good home for the items (stuff) that no longer held value for me, and clung to those things that added meaning and memory to my changed lifestyle. Do you still have a houseful of terrible treasures?
Sandy
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