Keep or Toss
I've been thinking a lot lately about what I keep and what I do with it, and what I try to let go of. Not only did I have to do this recently with my work possessions (please see previous post for all the exciting details) but it's a central theme of the one-act "Bird Icon" that Chad and I are in the midst of re-booting. (Marketing alert: you can still come see this show this weekend in Cottage Grove and Forest Lake: http://minnesotaplaylist.com/performance/audience/daddy-issues-library-edition)
The play opens with my character, Claire, going through her recently deceased father's things and deciding what to keep or toss. Claire is much more on the ball about such matters than I am. My mom died fourteen years ago today, and I finally took some time this afternoon to go through a stockpile of her jewelry, thoughtfully saved for me by sister, Jenn. Although I didn't specifically remember or recognize most of the pieces, it's amazing how, after all this time, the jewelry reflected my mother's tastes and personality and conjured her up in a way. These pieces were bold, colorful, and unique, just like my mom. One piece I did remember was an opal ring. Holding and feeling something that she wore does make me feel a tangible connection to my mom, so I'm inspired to get it sized so I can wear it, too.
It's hard to believe that I've put off looking at this jewelry for fourteen years, and even harder to believe my mom has been dead so long. Every year on the anniversary of her death I'm amazed another year without her has passed, and I'm sure I will continue to feel this for as long as I live. These death anniversaries are such strange milestones, mixing together how much I miss my mom with feeling old. Or maybe "feeling old" is just a euphemism. I'm not really thinking about my age so much as my mortality. My mom was exactly twenty years older than I am now when she died. It's also a weird milestone because it highlights all the things, big and small, that have happened since my mom died that she never got to experience. I think about all the ways I've changed in the last fourteen years. It's trivial, but way back in 2000, I didn't drink coffee. Now I can't imagine life without it. Somehow the fact that my mom never knew me as a coffee addict symbolizes many levels of loss.
"Parents choose what pieces you get at the start and you deal with that the rest of your life." --Claire from "Bird Icon"
Of course it's not just about what physical things we have and keep, but what our possessions and memorabilia symbolize. All the intangible attributes, emotions, talents, passions, and whatnot that we inherit and accumulate are more crucial than any object. These are the really important pieces that we use to construct our lives. Yes, I was motivated by "Bird Icon" to go through my mother's jewelry today, but I'm even more inspired to think about what pieces my mother gave me (whether she intended to or not) and what I want to do with them. Some things are easy to identify, like the taste for loud jewelry that I inherited from my mom, or my willingness to put up with badly-behaved pets or my penchant for hyperbole and crazy customer antics. I would also like to say I'm as generous, compassionate, loyal and strong as my mother, but those are pieces I'm still aspiring to to fully own.
What we toss can be just as important as what we keep. Again, sometimes these decisions are easy. I decided long ago that I don't have to keep my mother's love of cheap gas station donuts alive (although thinking of it always makes me smile). But what should I let go of? What don't I even realize that I'm holding on to? I'm slowly letting go of the pain of my mother's illness and death, but can I let go of some of the sadness and fear she carried her whole life?
I also worry about what I have unintentionally let go of and what is slipping away because of the effects of time. Worse yet I wonder what I don't remember because I didn't pay attention and notice in the first place. There is a song out right now that I adore by Field Report called "Home (Leave the Lights On)" with the lyric "The body remembers what the mind forgets." I know body memory is often seen as something of a curse, but if our bodies remember all our traumas, they should remember all the good things, too. I hope my body remembers all the hugs and all the spaghettios my mom ever gave me. I want my body to remember all the love I received, especially when I was too young to have any memory of it.
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| Claire pondering keep or toss in "Bird Icon" |
It's hard to believe that I've put off looking at this jewelry for fourteen years, and even harder to believe my mom has been dead so long. Every year on the anniversary of her death I'm amazed another year without her has passed, and I'm sure I will continue to feel this for as long as I live. These death anniversaries are such strange milestones, mixing together how much I miss my mom with feeling old. Or maybe "feeling old" is just a euphemism. I'm not really thinking about my age so much as my mortality. My mom was exactly twenty years older than I am now when she died. It's also a weird milestone because it highlights all the things, big and small, that have happened since my mom died that she never got to experience. I think about all the ways I've changed in the last fourteen years. It's trivial, but way back in 2000, I didn't drink coffee. Now I can't imagine life without it. Somehow the fact that my mom never knew me as a coffee addict symbolizes many levels of loss.
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| My mom's jewelry |
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| My mom's opal ring |
Of course it's not just about what physical things we have and keep, but what our possessions and memorabilia symbolize. All the intangible attributes, emotions, talents, passions, and whatnot that we inherit and accumulate are more crucial than any object. These are the really important pieces that we use to construct our lives. Yes, I was motivated by "Bird Icon" to go through my mother's jewelry today, but I'm even more inspired to think about what pieces my mother gave me (whether she intended to or not) and what I want to do with them. Some things are easy to identify, like the taste for loud jewelry that I inherited from my mom, or my willingness to put up with badly-behaved pets or my penchant for hyperbole and crazy customer antics. I would also like to say I'm as generous, compassionate, loyal and strong as my mother, but those are pieces I'm still aspiring to to fully own.
What we toss can be just as important as what we keep. Again, sometimes these decisions are easy. I decided long ago that I don't have to keep my mother's love of cheap gas station donuts alive (although thinking of it always makes me smile). But what should I let go of? What don't I even realize that I'm holding on to? I'm slowly letting go of the pain of my mother's illness and death, but can I let go of some of the sadness and fear she carried her whole life?
I also worry about what I have unintentionally let go of and what is slipping away because of the effects of time. Worse yet I wonder what I don't remember because I didn't pay attention and notice in the first place. There is a song out right now that I adore by Field Report called "Home (Leave the Lights On)" with the lyric "The body remembers what the mind forgets." I know body memory is often seen as something of a curse, but if our bodies remember all our traumas, they should remember all the good things, too. I hope my body remembers all the hugs and all the spaghettios my mom ever gave me. I want my body to remember all the love I received, especially when I was too young to have any memory of it.
My mother-in-law recently asked me if it's hard for me to be in "Bird Icon." It is, and not just for the obvious reasons. I feel a big responsibility and pressure to get Claire right. If I can't play a spazzy woman dealing with the death of a parent, what role can I play? But my ego and insecurities aside, facing my memories of and feelings about my mom's death through the lens of this play really is healing. To once again quote "Bird Icon" (this time Chad playing my father. ..trust me it works) it's "the healing balm of art." I definitely want to keep that.
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