This classic Adidas Pants for Women is sure to make heads turn. Its super-stylish and extremely comfortable. You can wear it around the house, at the gym, or even on the street when you're going for that casual yet hip look.Holding a garage sale to close out our parent's estate was meant to be a form of closure for my siblings and me. Instead, we discovered how no one else really cared about our loss. They were merely looking to satisfy their curiosity and craving for bargains.
Prior to the sale, my sister, brother and I tearfully sorted through our parent's belongings to salvage what we could to keep for mementoes. My mother was an excellent seamstress and crafter. She collected everything. After carefully cutting the buttons off old clothing, she would look up and say, "I just might be able to use them someday". We spent hours crafting together when I was young. The jar of old buttons would be my special remembrance of her.
Dad was a plumber by trade as well as an ace mechanic. There wasn't anything he couldn't fix, and he had the tools for every job. My brother inherited his talent for fixing things, so the tools were useful and sentimental to him. My sister wasn't much of a collector, but some of Mom's dishes held special memories for her. She had just the place for them in her kitchen.
On the day of the sale, people had begun to gather on the lawn in eager anticipation of what bargains may be awaiting them. We opened the garage door and they streamed in. Their intentions were clear. They wanted to gather as much as they could for as little money as possible. I don't know what we expected. We were fresh in our grief and still mourning our loss. Maybe this was too soon, but it was necessary to clear out the property for the landlord. It was certain no one else was going to handle it for us.
Watching as complete strangers pillaged my Mom's cherished fabric collection and craft supplies, I was in shock. Is this what my own children will have to experience when I am gone? All these personal belongings that had held so much meaning for our family were now being bargained for by perfect strangers. The crowning blow came when a man haggled with my brother over the $5.00 price on my Dad's favorite suede jacket. The stranger finally wore my brother down bargaining with him. My brother, close to tears, held out his hand for the 2 quarters the man had for him. The three of us watched as the uncaring stranger walked away wearing our father's jacket. It wasn't the monetary value, it was the sentimental value we had placed on it. Every picture we had of our father, he was wearing his favorite suede jacket.
Shortly after this incident, we agreed to close down the garage sale. It was just too tortuous for us watching as our mother and father's personal items left in the hands of strangers. We called the local thrift shop to come and pick up the remainder of the items. At least they would be able to sell them, make some money for charity and not have any sentimental attachment.
The lesson I learned from that day gave me new insight as to what my own children would have to endure when I am gone. Like my Mom, I, too, have accumulated a lot of stuff, mostly craft supplies and my share of fabric. My husband and I have moved around like gypsies and all my stuff has moved with us in various containers, which are now stored in our garage. They are filled with things, "I might be able to use someday".
Two weeks ago, on a Saturday morning I had an epiphany. I decided it was time to tackle the garage. I was on a mission to insure my kids would never experience the sadness I had at the garage sale. I spent the day sorting through each container. There were so many memories, and so much stuff, not to mention the hundreds of dollars worth of supplies I had accumulated. I had to force myself to remain stoic as I set aside the things, some of them, the items I had salvaged from the garage sale, to go to the thrift shop. I could imagine my daughter, who is not a crafter, holding up the jar of old buttons, which I had thought to be so precious, and wondering why on earth I had ever saved it.
At the end of the day, there were plastic containers stacked 5 deep for the thrift shop. As I looked forlornly at the stacks, I said a little prayer that all that stuff would make it into the hands of someone who really appreciated it and could use it.
The next day my husband loaded up the car and happily made 3 trips to the thrift store. He was ecstatic at the thought of not having all those containers cluttering his garage. The following day when I arrived home from work, I looked at the newly organized garage with a bittersweet feeling. It was as though a piece of my life was missing, but at the same time, I felt a great satisfaction and sense of accomplishment.
The author is a working professional who lives in the California Desert with her husband. She has a daughter and son and 2 grandchildren. Writing has replaced many of the craft projects, so the accumulation of stuff has slowed.
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