Editor’s Note: This is a guest post from John P. Weiss.
When I was thirteen years old, my father suffered a heart attack in front of me and my mother. We were in the living room watching television and he said he didn’t feel well.
Emergency responders were called, followed by several intense hours at the hospital. Thankfully, Dad recovered, but not my boyhood sense of immortality. Life, I quickly learned, can change in an instant.
Fast forward 27 years and I’m holding my father’s hand in a dementia care facility. He is unconscious. The hospice nurse tells me that hearing is often the last sense to go. So I tell my father that I love him. That everyone in our family is fine. That if he’s tired, to rest.
He slipped away peacefully an hour later.
I made all the arrangements for my mother. We held a small memorial for family and friends. We reminisced, laughed, cried, and said our goodbyes.
The next day I drove to my parent’s house. My mother wanted to downsize her home and move closer to me, my wife, and son.
Dad was a packrat. The garage was filled to the gills, and the rest of the house was equally loaded with a lifetime of possessions. If Dad had met Marie Kondo, he’d have told her that all his stuff brings him joy.
Unfortunately, most of Dad’s stuff didn’t bring me joy. It took weeks of hard work to simplify, declutter, and unload everything. I found a consignment business that took most of the large furniture pieces. I gave away many of Dad’s tools and garage items. There were countless trips to the Goodwill and the local dump.
At the time, I was unfamiliar with minimalism, but the experience left a big impression. I knew I wanted a simpler, less cluttered life.
Don’t leave this burden to them
Margareta Magnusson published a slender book in 2018 titled “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning.” Magnusson’s first encounter with
It’s an enormous task to declutter and organize after the death of a parent or loved one. As Magnusson points out, young families today lead busy lives. She notes:
“Do not ever imagine that anyone will wish—or be able—to schedule time off to take care of what you didn’t bother to take care of yourself. No matter how much they love you, don’t leave this burden to them.”
Swedish death cleaning, Magnusson points out, is as much (or more) for you as for the people who come after. Doing so gives you the chance to find meaning and memory in your things. You’ll also feel a sense of lightness and peace.
If you don’t remember why a possession has meaning or why you kept it, it will be easier to part with. Sentimental items, letters, and photographs are often the hardest to deal with. Fortunately, they can be organized into albums or digitized.
The old barber shop
I went through hundreds of old photos after my father died. I tossed duplicates and pictures of people unfamiliar to my mother and I. The rest were reduced down to one small box, which we plan to digitize into a computer file. It can then be used with a digital photo frame, to enjoy all the pictures as they cycle through.
One of the photos I found in my Dad’s stuff was of the old, vintage barber shop in town where he got his hair cut. Dad used to take me there when I was a kid.
Dad’s barber was named Pat. He was a slender, short man and his small shop was always neat and tidy. Opening the door to his shop, you’d hear the dangling bell as it clanked against the glass.
Inside, there were three of those old barber chairs. You know, the ones with puffy seats, armrests, and those big, metal foot pedals.
Pat had combs suspended in jars filled with mystery blue liquid. There were various electric clippers, hot towels, a small TV (with the game on), and various sports magazines strewn about the waiting area.
After a haircut, Pat would liberally powder your face with a big, soft brush. Then, for the kids, he’d hand out Bazooka Joe bubble gum.
I thought Pat’s barber shop was cool, but I wasn’t old enough to appreciate what my Dad admired most about Pat.
The capacity to enjoy less
Dad once told me that Pat was the most down to earth, authentic, wise, well-adjusted man he knew. Pat loved people and conversation, and his work was the perfect forum for both.
My father was an administrative law judge, and his work was complicated and stressful. In fact, it’s what led to my Dad’s heart attack. Several other judges that Dad worked with suffered heart attacks as well.
Dad admired Pat because he led a simple, uncomplicated life. Even Pat’s home (where my father visited him once to help on a legal matter) was a small, neat, tidy house.
According to my Dad, Pat was far happier than most of the men Dad worked with. Pat had crafted a simple, uncomplicated life.
Despite Dad’s tendency to hoard stuff, he knew simplicity was a virtue. He once told me, “Do we own our things, or do our things own us?”
Perhaps Socrates, who my father admired, said it best:
“The secret of happiness, you see, is not found in seeking more, but in developing the capacity to enjoy less.”
Roses in our winter
What Swedish death cleaning taught me about life is that relationships and experiences are what matter, not the stuff we fill our homes and lives with.
Yes, some possessions enrich our lives, but the sweetest memories come from experiences with loved ones and friends.
As we approach the twilight of our lives, memories become important companions. As the author George Will once wrote:
“Memories are roses in our winter.”
Don’t wait until you are old and tired to simplify your life. Swedish death cleaning is not consigned to the elderly.
We can declutter and embrace minimalism at any age. Doing so will unburden you, allow more time for loved ones, and create an abundance of memories to cherish for a lifetime.
***
John P. Weiss is a fine artist, writer, and retired police chief. He blogs at JohnPWeiss.com about living a more artful life.
I am now decluttering in my second year of retirement and it is so freeing. My house is small and I am reclaiming my space and sanity. I eBay what I can and took a car load of bigger items to the local thrift store and I have not missed a thing. Many items I ran across I didn’t have a clue where it came from and in the process found some neat things to use. I love following your posts and you have been very inspiring to me. I am alone with no family and I don’t want my friends to be burdened with anything except burying me. I have my will and instructions in place. I am scaring the crap out of some of my friends because they think I am going somewhere and yes we all are going somewhere one of these days. We are just passing through. It’s so freeing!
Several years ago I did a major purge of “stuff” to get my house ready to sell. Earlier this year, I downsized from a 5 bedroom plus den home to a 3 bedroom bungalow. I sold a lot of furniture and things before I moved but find that I still moved too many things. I continue to put ads on marketplace and sell things I really do not need and I have taken many car loads to a local thrift shop. I have never been a pack rat but my daughters have told me that I am an exceptionally clean and very organized hoarder. It feels good to get rid of things. The objective is a place for everything and everything in its place. If there is no place for it, it goes.
Life arrangements against cluttering with minimizing items is a wise decision, amazing character of the barber with detailed description of the barber shop components, and fine cartooning, thanks.
I think we should rename it Swedish Life Cleaning because it represents an idea I can express that life lived better is about less volume and more density of meaning. I don’t think is should ever apply to the sentimental things, like a personally written card, or a clay bird your grandson made, perhaps we can declutter those things by organizing or storing rather than letting go. These token’s of life’s journey through time who have mattered are tangible memories, connections to meaning. It comes to mind that perhaps I can put more thought into things I decide to get as well as things I can give away :)
Dear John,
I am sorry to hear you lost your Mom this year. This weekend I too went to visit my parent’s graves as I have not been able to due to COVID. It took almost a year to get Mom’s gravestone put in place after she passed. I don’t know how to describe the feeling I had in finally being able to see her finished grave, pay my respects, and have a conversation with the two of them. It was almost like a sense of closure.
Your article about simplifying reminded me of the opportunity I had to do that with Mom. It was a difficult time as she knew in her heart that she couldn’t keep everything as she was relinquishing her home for a small space. She really wanted to keep as much as possible because her things were connected to special memories. In the end, the memories stayed, but the things did not, and after a while, she was at peace with it.
I too have recently decided to spend my time purging, with many trips to Good Will after discussions with my daughter. I find life to be much more enjoyable in experiences than in collecting things. I would rather travel, meet new people, paint, and dive into the spiritual. Things that fill your soul are much more rewarding than those that fill your space. There is definitely something to be said about simplicity….Sharon
when I was a little boy perhaps 6 or 7 – the family – which was my parents and my little brother who was about a year younger than me – would travel to my grandparents house in Brooklyn and sometimes out of the clear blue horizon my dad would take me to this man’s house – which was in a basement of another building and I do not remember what we did there but I do remember that his name was Ali Baba and he was a mysterious sort of fellow – in fact I never knew the story of Ali Baba and the 40 thieves until years later but now thinking back this fellow was much older and perhaps was there in Brooklyn when my dad was a little boy and held some mysterious enchantment for my dad as well – which is why I imagine that he took me to see Ali Baba –
if you want more of this story and many many more other stories you will have to wait since I am now 71 years old and these memories are just beginning to surface –
and if not – then take them as they come –
We just finished the 2nd garage sale of the summer and it is clear that de-cluttering is going to be a multi-year process. Significant items we will continue to offer on CraigsList, being more diligent to renew the ads. One man’s treasure can also become another man’s treasure if the price is right.
My mother and grandmother passed away a week apart. They both had so much stuff to go through. It was overwhelming. After having gone through that (while grieving too), I swore that I wouldn’t do that to my kids. The following spring break week (which is when i do my usual spring cleaning), I got rid of almost everything. I kept functional furniture; cleaned out my closet & donated the clothes & shoes I didn’t wear; I even cleared my walls of clutter. It was liberating. 2 years later, I met my husband. I sent my last kid off to college; sold almost everything I had (I kept clothes, pictures, and only sentimental decorative items, such as the “Footprints” in the sand story) and I moved in with my husband (he was my very serious boyfriend then). I felt so free.
Congratulations, Kristi, on successfully downsizing your possessions. For many of us, the loss of a loved one is how we first learn about the burden of clutter and unnecessary possessions. But then, if we’re smart, we learn how to simplify our lives. It feels good to get more organized!
I was tickled by the title because my family is 100% Swedish and saves stuff. My Great Grandma Matilda Gustafson was famous for not throwing anything away. However, she was able to help new immigrants set up housekeeping when they moved to her area. After she died we had quite a time clearing out her house. One thing that I wanted was the tanned piece that had been her little dog. I wanted it for a rug. My Mom said no way. I got a string of glass beads.
John,
Please continue to post about decluttering from time to time. I’m still in the “reading” phase of my minimalist life style. Haha
Hopefully one of these reminders will finally call my lazy butt into “action”.
It’s interesting to read about the experiences people who are older than me have had with having to deal with family members items. EBTH.com is an excellent place that helps family members who are grieving sell their family members items and make some $ from them to pay for things like the funeral, for instance. Talk about support during difficult times so that you don’t feel like you have to take it all on, yourself. Of course, they aren’t in every state, so that’s the downfall. I tried to convince my dad (he’s 50) to downsize his 3/4 bedroom house (that only he lives in) and sell stuff, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Oh well. I tried. The expression, “Less is more,” has so much value. I wonder, though, if people feel comforted by being around stuff. Perhaps, if the stuff disappears, they fear that they’ll feel lonely. I saw someone driving a little car full to the roof of trash. It was so sad… Some people’s realities are that they are lonesome. Unfortunately, too, right now, people aren’t as able to have close relationships like they maybe would like to (with a pandemic, and whatnot). Zoom and Skype make it more possible, but it’s just not the same. I have read, on the upside, that more people are discovering how icky it is to be in a house full of things that don’t serve them, well, since they have to be inside so much and are making more conscious decisions to say goodbye to things. That is awesome! :D I think that New Yorkers understand how to use space more than your average joe because they have no choice, they have to make the best of smaller spaces. I find the Quakers to be fascinating. I attended a ceremony in Madison where we spent 45 minutes sitting in complete silence. I later on learned that they promote borrowing something before you go out and buy something used/brand-new. That helps maintain relationships. When people can rely on each other for things, there’s community. I often think that’s what people are missing, most, in their lives.
Brenda As I read your post it was like I was writing it. I am retired and for the past 2 1/2 years I have only did what I had to in my house. This page has began to help me tremendously. I have started my journey of decludering. I lost my 23 yr old daughter in Jan. 2008. She suffered a horrible death from her own Pittbull in her home. 10 months later my 21 year old son passed away. November 29, 2016 my precious 15 year old son came home from school and went to his bedroom and shot himself. We didn’t have a gun but he had brought it home from a family members house without me knowing. He passed away the next day. They were going to take him off life support but he coded twice and then I had to sign a DNR. A coach from school stayed with me all night while I talked to him all night. I don’t know if he heard me but I pray he did. He had been bullied at school and we had gone everywhere for help. He couldn’t take it anymore. He and my 14 yr old daughter were both in the 9th grade. She got to him first in his bedroom. She is a Senior now and will be graduating and going to college. We are praying for a basketball scholarship.
I now have found that this is what I need to stay busy. Less is best and it will take time but doing anything everyday is better than doing nothing. Thank you all so much.
My heart breaks for you as I write this. I will pray for you and your daughter ❤️
It is devastating to have so much heartbreak.
I am living through grief,and find it uplifting to hear others are making progress.
God grant you Peace and Comfort as you and your Daughter move on <3
My deepest sympathy goes to you! I know John from the time in CA, but am german and live in Germany. May you live on well and find peace in anything…Birgit
Your story is heartbreaking – to lose three children is unimaginable. My sister chose to end her life last year and losing one person in tragic circumstances is too many. I pray your daughter finds her place in a course she loves and that you find pockets of peace which keep you going. Much love, another Karen x
So sorry for the difficult journey you’ve been through. Praying you find peace you need in simplicity.