sen·ti·men·tal
/ˌsen(t)əˈmen(t)l/
adjective
of or prompted by feelings of tenderness, sadness, or nostalgia.
I would say I’m a very sentimental person, especially when it comes to things I feel are nostalgic for me. I think one of the great tragedies of life is that while we’re living it, we’re not truly cognizant of how precious and important certain moments are. And then, often years hence, this realization hits home. It may feel like it’s burnt a hole in your soul and you are overrun with sadness that, whatever (or whoever) it was, is no more and can never be again. It may flood your soul with happy emotions as you reminisce and try to hold the memories like a really good dream. However it hits you, your soul is definitely involved because I think it goes beyond mere feelings, to the core of your corporeal being.
Objects are often the catalyst of sentimental feelings.
Last weekend I was helping my mom clean up piles of junk mail that my dad got. He would take bags of the junk mail down to his shop and burn them in a burn barrel. I had recently convinced my mom that this might not be the best practice to continue, especially since there is a place nearby that recycles paper. And so, I was ripping off the address labels on stacks of junk mail. In the same corner, were paperbacks that my dad had read. He and I would often trade paperbacks since we liked the same sort of adventure/action novels. My mom also asked me to take those. As I was bagging them up to take home, in between the stacks was an old plastic book holder that my dad had “modified” to work better for his paperbacks. It worked alright, but it definitely did not have the greatest appearance with it’s melted, discolored plastic edges. The thing had to be at least 20 years old.
The trashcan by the desk was already overflowing but I set the old book holder on top of it. He was never going to use it again, after all. My mind went back to the days after Mario passed and I was in “clean out” mode–not really stopping to think too long about certain things knowing I would get overwhelmed with sentimental waves.
When it comes to certain objects, I feel they are “charged” with emotions and history. I should have known that old plastic book holder was one of those objects.
I had to go back over to my mom’s a few days later and when I got there, she says to me, “Sherry, we have to talk about things you’re throwing away”. I thought she was talking about me cleaning up the shop and quickly replied that I’d only been bagging up literal trash down there. Then she showed me the book holder.
“There are things that have sentimental value, you know?”
Suddenly, I understood all too well.
“I hate this thing. I hated seeing it sitting on the table every day. But it reminds me of your dad, and it’s sentimental to me.”
I apologized for assuming it should be tossed and told her any time we’re cleaning in the future, I’ll run things by her.
It also made me realize once again that while my mom and I have very different approaches to many things in life, we’re in this widowed boat together.
She’s slowing making her way through these uncharted waters–waters that I’ve had over 3 years to get good at swimming.
I know she wants to clean and get rid of some things, but she’s sentimental too. My dad’s portion of their closet remains untouched. Same with his chest of drawers. His shop has been the only thing we’ve been slowly liquidating. Probably because the shop is a few hundred yards from the house. It’s like the “outer circle” of my dad’s previous existence. My mom hardly spent any time down there. Up at the house though, that’s a different story.
I sadly don’t need to imagine what it’s like to lose your spouse, but I do have to engage that imagination a bit to think about how it is to lose someone you were married to for over 60 years of your life. A mere couple months is a minuscule drop in the bucket when compared to 6 decades. So she’s still got a lot of time ahead of her to process.
