During the second week of January, I found myself returning to the home in Georgia that my late-husband Rich and I purchased six years ago. There, I continued to curate what I call the My Museum of Stuff, a third garage where a collection of family nostalgia and items that belonged to Rich are stored. 

The first time I took leave of this home in 2023, I wasn’t quite ready to let go of that home. I was moving to a rural region of Old Florida that was totally unknown to me. What if I wanted to return? The following year, feeling more confident in my new life and location, I placed that Georgia home on the market. But, fate intervened when a family needed a furnished home to rent while their fire-damaged place was rebuilt.

Now, with their recent departure, I once again prepare that home for its potential sale and my role as curator has gotten even more challenging. I have to will myself to focus and take lots of mental breaks to avoid decision fatique – what stays, what goes. There is so much nostaligia stored in those boxes that line the walls of that garage. My brother John, and I, are the only family survivors and his kids do not want what they see as meaningless clutter. Once we are no longer here, most of these family treasures will be tossed impersonally. I would rather honor the past and disgard them myself with the dignity they deserve instead of strangers. But in doing so, I feel a loss, if these things no longer exist, what proof do I have that these memories mattered?

Framed photos. Signed books. Letters and cards. What about all our wedding gifts? With each round of curating I find myself making hard decisions. Have I even used many of these items in 25 years? But they remind me of the gift givers, many who’ve passed, and I have a hard time letting go of them. 

So, I make piles; Donations for Goodwill and Salvation Army. To be discarded. To be Kept. This is a tough time of year to discard items it seems as I was turned away from my local Salvation Army which had me heading to Goodwill. I’ve also, in the past, donated to many other charitable organizations.

And oh the books. Because I write and paint, I have so many volumes on writing, and art and Rich, who was an avid chef, had acquired so many cook books. There’s also Rich’s beloved and valuable decoy collection.

The other day, after many months of contemplation, I finally gave up my beloved art display, a gift from my mother several years ago. From those display panels, hundreds of paintings were exhibited and sold. That display traveled with me to so many art shows and events, indoors and out. I had to accept that I wasn’t going to be participating in any more art shows and I didn’t need this display that took up so much space. I made a call to a local art teacher and he arrived to take them away; my donation to a new generation of aspiring artists.

Before he left he told me how he’d almost bought my home. He pointed to My Museum of Stuff and said that he’d wanted that garage for his own stuff, but his kids wanted a house with a pool. Funny how that works. I’m sure there’s someone out there right now who will be buying my home, busy packing up their own stuff to store in my garage. 

It wasn’t an easy few days. In this clean out, I said good-bye to my former life as a full-time working artist, and some of my history with Rich as well as several close family members who have passed. It was through the art community that Rich had entered my life.

We enjoyed our few years of life in The South together, and ironically, what Rich loved most about that home was that third garage. Before I left to return to Florida, I purchased a number of storage containers to transport items from My Museum of Stuff that I’m still not ready to part with and I’m currently scouting for a storage shed so the things I’m not ready to part with can have a new home.

Thanks to all for your good wishes on the occasion of my birthday.