Oh what a touching revelation of a soul.....I would have been the same as you if my mother died when I was 19....she died when I was 59 and I miss her to this day....I still have a dress she wore...one I'll never wear....but will let go this year, and I'm a whole lot older than you...I think things aren't just 'things', they hold the memories of love of the one we've lost. It's ok, you'll be ok.
9
I too have experienced the pangs of emptying a parent's home after they have passed away and realized how many of their possessions serve as a bridge to meaning and memory. Growing up we had a special blue china teapot in our kitchen- it was the only possession of my mother's mother that came to be my mother's and the mere sight of it spoke volumes of my mom's connection to her mother. Now that I have survived both parents. my family lives with many of their effects which brings me tremendous comfort. (Each morning when I dress, a pair of my father's shoes tucked in a corner of my closet remind me of his dedication to his family and his ideals- a legacy worth preserving.) I have a lot of admiration for Marie Kondo- but sometimes the "thingness" of things is purely that- a chance to connect to someone, someplace, or something dear to us for reasons not always apparent to others.
http://curbappealinsleepyhollow.blogspot.com/
http://curbappealinsleepyhollow.blogspot.com/
7
Thank you for this beautiful piece. Having suffered so many losses in my life, I too have turned to the UPS man to momentarily distract me from this void.
4
Thank you for sharing this beautiful piece. Everyone materializes and experiences grief in their own way. My father died in a bicycling accident when I was 16--my uncle collected all the broken bike parts and shipped them in a box addressed to me, something I've always found curious since I have 3 older siblings and a mother.
That box now contains not only the broken bike, but photographs of my dad, letters he wrote me, and his collection of Asian currency from his tour in Vietnam. But I still so badly wish I had one of his old sweaters or big, button-up shirts. Something that I could wrap around my shoulders and feel his presence in. But my mom expressed her grief differently than I, and rather than collecting, she purged. There's barely anything of his left in her house, but I have to tell myself that that is okay. That it's what my mother needed in order to carry on.
Regarding your mother's coat, do what feel's best.
That box now contains not only the broken bike, but photographs of my dad, letters he wrote me, and his collection of Asian currency from his tour in Vietnam. But I still so badly wish I had one of his old sweaters or big, button-up shirts. Something that I could wrap around my shoulders and feel his presence in. But my mom expressed her grief differently than I, and rather than collecting, she purged. There's barely anything of his left in her house, but I have to tell myself that that is okay. That it's what my mother needed in order to carry on.
Regarding your mother's coat, do what feel's best.
6
Jenny,
I so identify with you. My mother died when I was 32 and I was lucky to have such a good relationship with her, as you did with your mother. We were lucky to have this relationship because I hear so many stories from women who had terrible relationships with their moms. I kept many cherished things that remind me of her and glad that I did. Please keep the coat. Yours is a very moving story. I cried when I read it because it brought back so many memories.
I so identify with you. My mother died when I was 32 and I was lucky to have such a good relationship with her, as you did with your mother. We were lucky to have this relationship because I hear so many stories from women who had terrible relationships with their moms. I kept many cherished things that remind me of her and glad that I did. Please keep the coat. Yours is a very moving story. I cried when I read it because it brought back so many memories.
5
I have the coat that my mother's father gave my dad in 1952 when he became engaged to my mother. He was a manufacturer's rep for cold weather coats called "Sno-Fo"--and in Minnesota, it came in handy. When my dad moved to assisted living in his late 80s, he was still wearing that coat, still keeping him warm, but the padded lining was threadbare. I could not get rid of the coat, brought it home to a different state, did some research and discovered that Ronald Reagan, the actor, wore that model of coat in a film he made called "Louise". I enlisted a dressmaker to "restore" the lining, and she took it as a challenge, as though the coat was going on display at the Smithsonian. Instead, each winter, I put it on a fancy gold hanger and attach it to the clothes hook by the front door, sort of as a work of art. It reminds me of my dad, my mother, my grandpa, and even Ronald Reagan!
5
"My love is not diminished if I let go of sorrow. "
Thank you for this.
Thank you for this.
10
Having graduated from grad school (its scientific joys, its pressures, its power disparity, its moments of despair) and journeyed to find my own conviction and peace, I would like to give you a huge metaphorical hug of sympathy.
My own favourite article of clothing is my dad's university jumper (bought when he was a Chinese PhD student in London many years ago). I wear it in all sorts of weather, and my dad likes to joke that it is my most trendy item of clothing.
My own favourite article of clothing is my dad's university jumper (bought when he was a Chinese PhD student in London many years ago). I wear it in all sorts of weather, and my dad likes to joke that it is my most trendy item of clothing.
3
It takes serious guts to write with this much honesty and vulnerability about something so personal and painful. It strikes me that you have already given the coat away... to us. Thank you Jenny.
8
My comment was out of love. I don't know the author, and have never read the Kondo book. However, I'm wary of the need to 'obey' trends in best-selling books, or to make major life changes based on how a boyfriend/girlfriend lives his/her life. Just food for thought from an older person.
12
It is about attachment. We are human, we get attached to things, people, feelings, & purple coats. It's ok. It may not inspire joy, but, having it and wearing it, is like a memorial to your beloved mother. It's a bit like getting a hug from her. Even Zen Master's get attached. Thank you for your moving story.
7
Jenny, you lost your mother at a young age. I did too. Please, keep the coat.
20
I lost my mother at about the same age. I agree. Keep the coat. Sometimes sadness and joy are intermingled.
2
Thank you for sharing, this is beautiful. I lost my mother in 1999. I kept her coat among other things including letters, cards and notes to me. Still wear the coat although it looks like a jacket on me but love it, I still smell her presence although less often, this is my link to her and my hug. Am grateful to her, it is a priceless feeling.
Best wishes.
Best wishes.
17
I had trouble discarding my mother's things after she died. We had to empty out the house of her books, with inscriptions and notes in her own hand, her flower pots, her placemats, her soaps and lotions, her sheets and linens, her framed pictures, her decorative throws and pillows, her clothes, her dishes, her treasured things. I couldn't keep it all, I donated some, and sold some, but most of it went into a dumpster in the driveway. I placed things in there, I couldn't just toss them and hear the shatter of breaking glass and ceramic. I kept a lot that I could not throw out, things that I knew she had cherished, or were meaningful to her, even if not to me. It didn't seem right that these things would go into a dumpster and carted off to land fill. Over time I've managed to release some of the kept things. This last week I stopped into a Marimekko store and looked at the prints. My mother had three Marimekko dresses that my father had bought for her in the 70's. They were an expensive purchase for a teacher and secretary, and she loved them, wearing the cotton caftans even in the winter, with some sort of synthetic turtleneck underneath. I panicked for a moment, had I given them to the consignment shop when I brought my clothes in a month ago? I had considered it and could not remember what I'd done. When I got home, I checked and there they were on a shelf in my closet. I was so relieved. Keep the coat. It's an important memory of your mother.
19
Keep the coat! Get rid of the BF!
19
Thank you for this beautiful piece. And I'm with the other posters on the coat: I still have a hat and a pendant that belonged to my beloved father, who died in 1979.
14
Even if the coat was one you found behind the sofa, he doesn't get to tell you what to get rid off, that you must get rid off. Be so warned!
16
Dear Jenny,
I, too, lost my mother at a young age - 22. The oldest of four girls, I was fortunate to get a few of my mother's possessions. One - an airy silk dress with a fine leopard print and gold metallic threads that run through the material. My mother looked so beautiful in this dress - one only worn for the finest occasions, with a slight bit of makeup that made her green eyes sparkle and her black hair shine. This is how I remember her; having this dress helps trigger fond memories that can't help but fade slightly through the years. I am grateful to have it, and, like her, it will stay with me forever.
I, too, lost my mother at a young age - 22. The oldest of four girls, I was fortunate to get a few of my mother's possessions. One - an airy silk dress with a fine leopard print and gold metallic threads that run through the material. My mother looked so beautiful in this dress - one only worn for the finest occasions, with a slight bit of makeup that made her green eyes sparkle and her black hair shine. This is how I remember her; having this dress helps trigger fond memories that can't help but fade slightly through the years. I am grateful to have it, and, like her, it will stay with me forever.
13
Don't be so quick to discard - I am a minimalist at heart and my home is a testament to that, but in the back of my closets are my mom's fuchsia Burberry cape which has never fit me and my grandmother's soup pot which hasn't been used for at least 30 years that I know about. Other "useless" items which make up 70+ years of memories and a part of my heritage are integrated into my home. Maybe I wouldn't have kept the "stuff" when I was younger, but I am so happy I have them now. It isn't "stuff", it's your life.
26
Please, NYTimes, add proper usage of the word "Zen" to your style guide.
2
The 'minimalist' way mentioned in this piece is definitely in the zeitgeist - and Marie Kondo's book is, understandably, written to please.
While I don't fail to see the attractiveness of surrounding us with only joyful things, I think it could be useful to substitute the maxim "keep only what gives you joy" with "keep only what has meaning".
This allows for complexity and subtlety in our life, while still preserving the underlying spirit of Kondo's advice: to live with intent (and most importantly look for it, when we think that we have lost it).
While I don't fail to see the attractiveness of surrounding us with only joyful things, I think it could be useful to substitute the maxim "keep only what gives you joy" with "keep only what has meaning".
This allows for complexity and subtlety in our life, while still preserving the underlying spirit of Kondo's advice: to live with intent (and most importantly look for it, when we think that we have lost it).
15
I still have my Dads gloves he wore on the docks before he had early Parkinsons and was still able to work....they don't bring me joy per se but memories and something tangible that he possessed. I treasure them and it's okay.
9
So many of the Modern Love articles seem contrived and untrue, "short stories" just written to get published. But not this one. It really resonates and is totally genuine in its feel. You are very gifted Jenny Qi, and I wish you all the best as you move forward. Keep the coat. It's love, not stuff.
34
I was disturbed by this piece. Obviously, as most commenters have already said, please keep the coat.
My concern is about your 'boyfriend.' He sounds controlling and you sound alarmingly like someone who has joined a cult. He told you to give away your bicycle, your boxing gloves, and your keyboard? And you did as he commanded?
It sounds as if he doesn't want you to have any hobbies, interests, or loves (the love of your mother) - that are not related to him. Those tools are how you carry out your interests - they are not clutter. The coat is a link to your mother - not clutter.
Controllers usually look for people who have had a recent loss or were in an abusive situation. An empathetic therapist could help you understand how you've gotten to a place where you're willingly giving everything of yourself away. Your mother may no longer be here to love you, but you can never lose the love she gave you, which must now become the love you give yourself.
My concern is about your 'boyfriend.' He sounds controlling and you sound alarmingly like someone who has joined a cult. He told you to give away your bicycle, your boxing gloves, and your keyboard? And you did as he commanded?
It sounds as if he doesn't want you to have any hobbies, interests, or loves (the love of your mother) - that are not related to him. Those tools are how you carry out your interests - they are not clutter. The coat is a link to your mother - not clutter.
Controllers usually look for people who have had a recent loss or were in an abusive situation. An empathetic therapist could help you understand how you've gotten to a place where you're willingly giving everything of yourself away. Your mother may no longer be here to love you, but you can never lose the love she gave you, which must now become the love you give yourself.
23
I don't usually read comments on my writing but was alerted to some of these by an amused friend of my boyfriend, and I feel bad that he has been misrepresented (and I suppose I have been misrepresented as well by association). To clarify, he didn't "command" that I do anything. Not unlike my therapist, he simply reminded me that it was okay to let go of the things that had long been weighing me down and preventing me from moving forward.
I appreciate everyone's concern for me, but please rest assured that my previous years of not having anyone to rely on has allowed me to become genuinely independent and to realize that I'd rather be alone than with anyone who doesn't support me and love me as I am, neurotic quirks and all. Much love to you--I know this concern comes from a place of kindness.
I appreciate everyone's concern for me, but please rest assured that my previous years of not having anyone to rely on has allowed me to become genuinely independent and to realize that I'd rather be alone than with anyone who doesn't support me and love me as I am, neurotic quirks and all. Much love to you--I know this concern comes from a place of kindness.
32
Over the sixteen years since my mother's death, I have slowly gotten rid of her clothing, save one sweater. I never forced myself to pare down--it just happened when it felt right.
As for the sweater, I wear it when I need a hug from her. Keep the coat.
As for the sweater, I wear it when I need a hug from her. Keep the coat.
19
Put the coat where you cannot see it and if, after a year, you have not thought of it or brought it back into your daily life, you will know. My mother in law loved 2 items.... her mothers "colander": A beaten up metal bowl with holes made from hammering a nail many times into the base. And a tiny bathtub with a baby doll inside that was her little sisters who died at 3 from the TB that swept 1920s St Paul. When my beloved mother in law died each family took what they wanted in a full home. That colander hangs in my kitchen and the doll is on my shelf where I see them every day. No material value but beyond priceless.
17
Thank you for this story. I agree, keep the coat. It might not spark joy but it holds the beauty of love and uncompromising connection.
11
Don't let your boyfriend tell you what to do. Keep the coat, and anything else you want, for that matter. YOU decide if and when you want to get rid of stuff.
17
Thank you for sharing your vulnerable heart and personal story with us. It's so beautiful and honest.
No advice, just gratitude.
No advice, just gratitude.
9
Just so familiar. I lost my mom at 22. It was wrenching, isolating and disorienting in equal measure. I clung to her stuff as she slipped away. I went through her things by myself before the rest of the family arrived. I was desperate to protect her, should she have written anything or kept anything she wouldn't have wanted anyone to see. I knew her most and would keep any secrets. I felt sick as my father sold our house, imagining the new owners covering her wallpaper. I remember holding on to scraps of notes for years. I just couldn't bear to throw away her writing. Her hairbrush was paralyzingly and perplexing. How could pieces of her hair still be here and she not? I laid in my closet and cried. I kept her swimsuit. She had overcome her fear of water in that suit, even learning to dive during her "adults afraid of water" class. Over the years, bit by bit I have let much go. I have moved. I have traveled. I came to feel that I have taken my mom, the homebody with her anxiety, on many adventures with me...we have ridden horses in Argentina, zip-lined in Costa Rica, worked in hospitals in Ghana and beyond. I let go and and I didn't collapse. I still keep her handwritten recipes. I treasure her secretary desk. I made forts under it as a toddler. While in college, I laid next to it, reading her the paper, all to keep her company while she "put on her face". It still smells faintly of her perfume. I will keep it, and her stretched out bathing suit, forever. Keep the coat.
15
Every object, every person has an unpredictable expiration date which dictates their unpredictable value.
The coat, the paper cranes, the mice and their expiration dates can be scheduled by you.
Unlike your mother's.
Much of life is how we react to what we cannot control.
The coat, the paper cranes, the mice and their expiration dates can be scheduled by you.
Unlike your mother's.
Much of life is how we react to what we cannot control.
5
Please keep the coat, it has been positively contaminated by your mother's spirit, her essence.
4
So sorry that you suffered this loss especially so young. You are still to be envied for this wonderful love you share with your mother. She is really part of you and living on in you and the love really is living on. I agree with all these other folks that you should keep the coat - but you will have your mother's love forever regardless...
4
I have my mom's (now very vintage) orangey-red suede jacket. It's a bit too big in the shoulders for me but I wear it once or twice a year regardless. I even splurged and had the worn out lining replaced. I was in the 1st or 2nd grade when my mother purchased it and she looked radiant in it. I clearly remember her waiting for me in the schoolyard wearing that jacket, and we'd walk home together hand in hand.
I'll never part with this jacket, Jenny. Promise me you'll keep the coat.
I'll never part with this jacket, Jenny. Promise me you'll keep the coat.
10
After my dad died and we went through his clothes, I took six or seven of his white Hanes undershirts.
Nearly 12 years later and despite a few holes, theyre still my favorite sleepwear.
Keep the coat. You wont regret it.
Trust me.
Nearly 12 years later and despite a few holes, theyre still my favorite sleepwear.
Keep the coat. You wont regret it.
Trust me.
32
Dear Jenny,
Keep the coat. It's priceless. Pay for storage if you have to.
Thanks for this.
Keep the coat. It's priceless. Pay for storage if you have to.
Thanks for this.
8
Thank you for sharing your story. Grief is the price of love.
17
Jenny - I am the proprietor of my own "organizing/de-cluttering business now in Sarasota Florida. As a "deClutter" coach, there are so many ways to create oxygen in your environment. I am proud of you (a compliment of high order) for all that you have done to clear out what no longer serves you and I offer my deepest condolences about your Mom. It's not only okay to keep the coat, you should keep it for as long as it sparks joyful memories. Wishing you great joy from this day forward.
8
Please keep the coat. Thank you for sharing your journey with grief. Letting it go is so difficult.
7
What a lovely piece to read on a Saturday morning! 'Their calmness makes me sick with anxiety' made me laugh almost out loud. Thank you so much. Was struck by the amount of advice in the kind responses. I figure whatever you do with the actual coat, it now lives in your writing.
9
You are blessed to have had a mother you want to remember, not everyone does. Keep the coat.
11
Thank you for this beautiful piece, and definitely please keep the coat. But why are you thinking of moving away?
3
All will be well if you keep the coat and all will be well if you don't - your decision. Thank you for writing this wonderful piece, your mother would be proud!
11
We have become a disposable society. Everything is cheap, and/or replaceable. The result is that we have become selfish, and interested only in our own lives. Our parents, and grandparents, all inherited things from their parents and grandparents. Their prized possessions were passed down. We no longer save our heirlooms. Like our possessions, our entire life is disposable. We no longer value the things that were our grandparents' prized possessions. And, tossing them seems an insult to them.
I think this idea of trashing everything has gone to the extreme. I understand tossing the clutter, but I own my great grandmother's ironing board. my grandmother's sewing machine, my grandmother's borthday book, where she recorded everyone's birthday. I have my grandfather's WWII ration books, and my father's WWII log books, kept while he was a German POW.
I can't go to estate sales. One woman was selling her grandfather's college diploma. I always wonder how they can sell things that the original owner prized so much without a second thought. I usually cry.
Decluttering is fine, but not to the extent that our existence becomes meaningless and disposable. If we teach that we have nothing to save and give, we teach that our lives hold no value.
I think this idea of trashing everything has gone to the extreme. I understand tossing the clutter, but I own my great grandmother's ironing board. my grandmother's sewing machine, my grandmother's borthday book, where she recorded everyone's birthday. I have my grandfather's WWII ration books, and my father's WWII log books, kept while he was a German POW.
I can't go to estate sales. One woman was selling her grandfather's college diploma. I always wonder how they can sell things that the original owner prized so much without a second thought. I usually cry.
Decluttering is fine, but not to the extent that our existence becomes meaningless and disposable. If we teach that we have nothing to save and give, we teach that our lives hold no value.
16
Do you really believe that it is objects, even those that have symbolic emotional connotations, that give one's life "meaning"? Really?
2
I hope that you will keep some things of your mother to give to your children, if you have them, because those things and your memories will be all that they know of their grandmother. I have a bread bowl from a great-grandmother I never met and a pot from another great-grandmother, and I cherish them.
In other words, don't de-clutter too much too soon, because you don't yet know what will be meaningful when you're older. I'm sorry you lost your mother so young, but it sounds as though you must have been a wonderful daughter to her. Thank you for a beautiful essay, and good luck to you.
In other words, don't de-clutter too much too soon, because you don't yet know what will be meaningful when you're older. I'm sorry you lost your mother so young, but it sounds as though you must have been a wonderful daughter to her. Thank you for a beautiful essay, and good luck to you.
15
Swiss might be rich thanks to their saying: "Don't buy what you 'need', buy only what you can't do without."
But as 70% or so of our economy is consumer-driven and as - on average - 80% of all American household dollars are spent by women (therefore in essence all advertising is, with exception of beer etc. ads aimed at women, "where the purse and the money is") any thoughtful reasoning or even appeals not to buy stuff can't really succeed.
With growth in employment rates of women, with women making more ... retailers from Starbuck to health spas and Talbots of the world rightly expect to sell more stuff and credit card companies can expect an ever-growing balances to live profitably off.
How many shoes, designer bags, "mementos", this and that one can indulge to buy? When "shopping therapy" will cease to exist? When the evolution-drive urge to feather one (ever growing in square footage) nest, redecorate kids bedroom, "afford" them this and that will not be a factor in family budget problems?
Yes, people might try to buy less "stuff" but they buy more of "experience". Both are taxing those family budgets, increase marital stress and make increasing demands on Earth's resources.
Then, research shows that, on average, two post-divorce households, even when (for obvious reasons typically unequal) need about 140% of money to operate as housing cost, extra car, extra cable TV service, extra household durables, etc. are needed. Divorce, like shopping, is good for economy.
But as 70% or so of our economy is consumer-driven and as - on average - 80% of all American household dollars are spent by women (therefore in essence all advertising is, with exception of beer etc. ads aimed at women, "where the purse and the money is") any thoughtful reasoning or even appeals not to buy stuff can't really succeed.
With growth in employment rates of women, with women making more ... retailers from Starbuck to health spas and Talbots of the world rightly expect to sell more stuff and credit card companies can expect an ever-growing balances to live profitably off.
How many shoes, designer bags, "mementos", this and that one can indulge to buy? When "shopping therapy" will cease to exist? When the evolution-drive urge to feather one (ever growing in square footage) nest, redecorate kids bedroom, "afford" them this and that will not be a factor in family budget problems?
Yes, people might try to buy less "stuff" but they buy more of "experience". Both are taxing those family budgets, increase marital stress and make increasing demands on Earth's resources.
Then, research shows that, on average, two post-divorce households, even when (for obvious reasons typically unequal) need about 140% of money to operate as housing cost, extra car, extra cable TV service, extra household durables, etc. are needed. Divorce, like shopping, is good for economy.
2
This comments are inappropriate for one in mourning.
5
And politicizing deeply personal situations is a good way to avoid facing deep feelings. Please try looking inward rather than outward.
5
What a sweet sad story, just like everything else in life. The coat stays with you. no more thinking or questioning if you should get rid of it.
You are not alone. Enjoy this ride called life, all the ups and downs and sideways detours. We are all in this together.
You are not alone. Enjoy this ride called life, all the ups and downs and sideways detours. We are all in this together.
5
What is it about a deceased mother's or aunt's coats? I have three of my mother's coats that I have kept for 30+ years. One is so itchy that it sets my skin on fire, another is a Spring coat from a time when that season hadn't been replaced by endless summer; the third was a 40th birthday present meant for a woman with a social life. In short, I hope that I can keep them for the rest of my life.
When a favorite great-aunt died and I asked my cousin for something to remember her by. I was given an English trench coat (no need to name the brand) from the 1940's. I really loved it and wore it for many years. I had a job that I hated because my boss made me feel awkward and insecure. When I would wear the coat to work she ridiculed me. Finally I donated it to a thrift shop in my neighborhood, and it hung in the window for weeks. Need I say that I still regret this decision and wonder what I was thinking. Keep the coat; you will never regret it.
When a favorite great-aunt died and I asked my cousin for something to remember her by. I was given an English trench coat (no need to name the brand) from the 1940's. I really loved it and wore it for many years. I had a job that I hated because my boss made me feel awkward and insecure. When I would wear the coat to work she ridiculed me. Finally I donated it to a thrift shop in my neighborhood, and it hung in the window for weeks. Need I say that I still regret this decision and wonder what I was thinking. Keep the coat; you will never regret it.
6
Maybe this is more a matter for the ethicist - i took mom's fur coat, which she wanted to leave to her grandson's future wife, to stop my brother and my sister-in-law from donating it to charity. Her fake fur is my inheritance as i am childfree. It seems right to me to respect mom's spoken wishes, even if we never saw eye to eye. Plus this way i get to wear the real fur until the boy gets married.
Love doesn't have to be perfect.
Love doesn't have to be perfect.
6
Keep the coat. It's good to clean out and depart with sentimental things, but at some point, life always moves on -- and that's fine. The memory is always there, and actually grows stronger.
4
I understand the appeal. But hang on to the coat.
Two years ago I moved across the world with basics - clothes, a computer, headphones, a book or two. Since then, I've amassed little more than a few extra books and instruments, and I live in a shared house where the only furniture are some mattresses and a wicker mat.
I left behind my most valuable possession: a box filled with birthday cards, photographs, love notes, trinkets that others purchased when I crossed their minds, name-tags stolen from friends, and other small reminders that life is joyous because of the people we spend it with. It is kept safe in the back of my closet in my parents' house in the US, unopened for years now.
I have a box filled with love, not stuff. And you have a coat of love, not stuff. Leave it in a closet if you want, but keep it.
Two years ago I moved across the world with basics - clothes, a computer, headphones, a book or two. Since then, I've amassed little more than a few extra books and instruments, and I live in a shared house where the only furniture are some mattresses and a wicker mat.
I left behind my most valuable possession: a box filled with birthday cards, photographs, love notes, trinkets that others purchased when I crossed their minds, name-tags stolen from friends, and other small reminders that life is joyous because of the people we spend it with. It is kept safe in the back of my closet in my parents' house in the US, unopened for years now.
I have a box filled with love, not stuff. And you have a coat of love, not stuff. Leave it in a closet if you want, but keep it.
10
Thank you, Jenny Qi, for an insightful and touching story. It's been 18 years -- I still hold my mother's comb, which sits next to mine, in my hand every day. And her coat hangs in my closet.
5
My mother died in 1986. She had little education, was raised depression poor but was smart and instilled in her 6 children a sense of being resourceful, honest, courteous and to never stop learning.
I inherited her classic, navy blue Pendleton coat which I still wear -and- each time I slip it on, I feel Mr mother's embrace. Yes, keep the coat.
I inherited her classic, navy blue Pendleton coat which I still wear -and- each time I slip it on, I feel Mr mother's embrace. Yes, keep the coat.
11
I am 68, trying to sell my house and move to closer to my grandchildren and children, who are my joy. I recently visited them and wound up, because of some situations, having to stay a couple months instead of a couple weeks. I realized them that there was really nothing in the cluttered 3-bedroom 1500 sq ft house that I "needed". Now I am talking to them about if there are any "memory tokens" they want, as I am really getting rid of just about everything that doesn't need to be here for daily life. The other day I saw a rainbow under some branches lodged in the creek that runs past my window....it danced on the ripples like flames for about half an hour until the sun no longer owned that particular spot. THAT gave me joy, reminded me how fluid our special moments are, and that we never really own that which gives our hearts overflowing joy.
16
As you and others note, it is important to remember that Marie Kondo's measure is joy, not usage or usefulness, an important distinction from other declutter methods, which focus on how long or how often something is used. I have been applying her method to my house, and have removed 9 bags of things so far, but have kept a plaid wool suit jacket from 1943 that belonged to my mother (given to her by her best friend in nursing school when she reached a weight loss goal) and an air force style jacket from 1970 of my father's that he gave me off his back when I admired it all those decades ago. It is unlikely that I will regularly wear either one, but they make me smile when I see them hanging in my closet. And it is due to the decluttering that I can even see them hanging there.
On the other hand, I have gotten rid of many other things made by or given by or held onto by my mother, because looking inward I could see that the keeping was about a misplaced sense of obligation and not about joy.
Your writing is beautiful and I am quite certain that you have the ability to look deeply into yourself, and to make courageous decisions for yourself, eschewing as necessary the advice of Marie, or your boyfriend, or all of us readers. Only you can know your heart.
On the other hand, I have gotten rid of many other things made by or given by or held onto by my mother, because looking inward I could see that the keeping was about a misplaced sense of obligation and not about joy.
Your writing is beautiful and I am quite certain that you have the ability to look deeply into yourself, and to make courageous decisions for yourself, eschewing as necessary the advice of Marie, or your boyfriend, or all of us readers. Only you can know your heart.
10
My mother never had much money but somehow bought a star sapphire ring in the late 50's. I wear it now because it is the possession that most reminds me of her. Keep the coat.
8
My mother died 19 years ago, and I still have her wallet, just as it was when she died unexpectedly. When I look at or hold it she is back with me so vividly that I don't believe I could ever give it up, although I can't bear to look at it often. The objects that bring the dead back to us are imbued with their presence. I worry that giving up the coat might feel like losing your mother a second time.
9
Both of my own grandfathers died before I was born, but I was lucky enough to know my husband's grandfather for the five years before he died. My husband inherited his bread knife and, silly as it sounds, I think of that wonderful and sweet man every day when I use his old knife. While the knife itself is nothing special, material possessions are often the conduit to memories, and the memories do matter.
22
"Conduit to memories." Thanks for this brilliantly concise phrase. It explains so much!
7
Dear Jenny -- I hope you are reading these comments. Thanks for sharing your story. It is beautifully written and it brought tears to my eyes. I relate to all the experiences you had during grad. school. In terms of the coat, as others advised, please keep it. I wore my mom's 1950's red and black checkered wool coat throughout college and I loved it. I wish i still had it. On and off, I wonder about what happened to it. Best wishes to you on your journey. I hope it is filled with health and happiness with or without belongings.
6
My mother also died when I was young, 18. I kept two of her coats and wore one wool coat all winter long one year before donating it. Her bright red raincoat I never wore, but I kept it for some reason. I moved it to four states, even while it no longer fit me. Then just a few years ago, my grownup niece was visiting me. We were going through some of my old things to see what she might use and I saw the red raincoat. "What about this?" I asked, not telling her its origin. She tried it on. A perfect fit. And back in style, too. I was very happy to pass it on and tell her it belonged to her grandmother, whom she never met. I know my mother would be so happy to see her wearing it. Joy all around.
Thank you for sharing your lovely story.
Thank you for sharing your lovely story.
20
No objection against tidying up - I can certainly use some - but there may be a danger of equating it with Zen and/or the impermanence of Mandala construction and dissolution. And here is a Ch'an parable to illustrate the caution:
Once there was a solitary monk living in an abandoned temple (more like a shed). The monk lived simply and practiced sitting (Zazen) all day long. Occasionally, people from a nearby village would come and listen to the monk expounding Dharma. And many achieved profound faith. By words of mouths, a famous Buddhist abbot heard about this monk and wanted to pay him a visit. Hearing that, the monk began tidying up the place and dust off the Buddhist statues on the altar. Half way doing that, it dawned on the monk that he was doing it all wrong. So, he just scattered he incense ashes he collected in a dustpan back to the altar and left the run-down temple as-is. The abbot came and was shocked at first by the state of the place. But since he had come with an entourage and many villagers, he sat down and listened to the monk's sermon anyway. At the end of it, the abbot attained a santori.
Thus have I heard
Once there was a solitary monk living in an abandoned temple (more like a shed). The monk lived simply and practiced sitting (Zazen) all day long. Occasionally, people from a nearby village would come and listen to the monk expounding Dharma. And many achieved profound faith. By words of mouths, a famous Buddhist abbot heard about this monk and wanted to pay him a visit. Hearing that, the monk began tidying up the place and dust off the Buddhist statues on the altar. Half way doing that, it dawned on the monk that he was doing it all wrong. So, he just scattered he incense ashes he collected in a dustpan back to the altar and left the run-down temple as-is. The abbot came and was shocked at first by the state of the place. But since he had come with an entourage and many villagers, he sat down and listened to the monk's sermon anyway. At the end of it, the abbot attained a santori.
Thus have I heard
1
I understand your need to divest yourself of many things, but please keep the coat.
55
Very sweet comment.
1
I agree. The coat has been a springboard to feeling, thought and beautiful art. It's a magic carpet. Keep it. And keep writing such lovely "stuff" too
7
My mother had very little as a child, and never had an engagement ring. When my grandmother (her mother in law) died, she left her diamond ring to me.My mother had a complicated relationship with her mother in law, and gifting the ring to me was…mean. Plus, I was too young for a big diamond in a 1930's setting. I gave it to my mother, who wore it for nearly 15 years, until she died. I then had the ring again, and very nearly sold it several times, when funds were low. But I could never bring myself to part with it, even though I never wore it. I see my mother's sweet, chubby fingers whenever I look at the ring, and it goes to my daughter, who will also cherish it, even if she never wears it.
53
This is beautiful indeed. You are a caring, gentle, emotional, and lovely person. I felt sad while reading because your boyfriend was the impetus for this huge de-cluttering of memories. Since he isn't even part of this story (your love for your mom), I wonder his role and I hope you are being true to your wants as well as his.
56
Marie says, only keep that which gives you joy. Your mother's coat gives you joy.........thinking of her and remembering with love. An obvious keep, lovely lady.
68
Marie Kondo's new book--"spark joy"-- speaks clearly to this exact point. Objects can carry memories, and no need to toss them away. Those memories and the objects that hold them spark joy in their own way. I hope the coat conundrum clarifies in time. Just remember the decision is yours alone -- not what so many of us have written here!
19
Listen to the advice below: keep the coat. Material objects have their place in our lives
25
Beautifully written. This hit too close to home, and left me in tears. It's however, comforting to know that there are others in this journey of loss and grief, and I'm not alone in my experience.
I agree with others, keep the coat.
I agree with others, keep the coat.
40
Wow, I don't even know what to say. Such a beautiful piece. Thank you.
30
Certain items are imbued with the essence of the person who owned them, while the rest are just "things." There's not need to go radical. Find the golden middle. Keep the coat.
33
Your story touched my heart. I would hold onto the coat.
22
Please keep the coat. I wish I had my mother's.
20
Thank you for this beautiful meditation on grief and love and ties that bind us forever.....please keep the coat! But at the end, its what in the heart that will stay, like that Mandala you describe, on the sand.
13
It's painful to get rid of things we view as irreplaceable. Donating or selling the fruits of your retail therapy is one thing; parting with a coat that holds great significance for you is quite another.
Sometimes in my attempts to purge belongings I contemplate a particular item for a while, then determine that I can't toss it. But a couple of years later I may change my mind. Do yourself the kindness of waiting.
It doesn't have to be an all-or-nothing approach. (Keeping one crane might have been OK.) Some losses are with us always. Be as gentle and compassionate with yourself as you would strive to be with others.
Sometimes in my attempts to purge belongings I contemplate a particular item for a while, then determine that I can't toss it. But a couple of years later I may change my mind. Do yourself the kindness of waiting.
It doesn't have to be an all-or-nothing approach. (Keeping one crane might have been OK.) Some losses are with us always. Be as gentle and compassionate with yourself as you would strive to be with others.
31
Everyone agrees, keep the coat. It does bring joy, despite not being comfortable to wear. But toss the thesis (it was only a "union card"), and other things that are just a necessary but temporary part of moving through life.
5
On October 12,2015 I was in an accident. ON October 13,2015 my mother died. As of this point, my family has only removed a few item from her closet. My siblings do not have the heart to go into the dresser drawers and closet and simply toss away clothes that my mother held for 30 years or more. I have the use of one arm, so I cannot do the task. What I have asked the rest of my family to do, is to set aside one or 2 pieces of her clothing that we all remember, and make those pieces into pillows. Whci is what I recommend the writer do with her mother's coat.
8
I empathize with you. Losing a mother lingers with you for life. I, too, have saved items that were my mother's or remind me of her. These do not qualify as clutter. They are too special. Keep whatever you want. No author can tell us what's best for us. I hope you are blessed with children. It will all make sense to you.
16
Thank you for this beautiful piece and the thoughts and emotions it provoked.
4
I say the coat qualifies as bringing you joy. Even Marie Kondo talks about things that we keep just because we like them, it's not necessary that they fill a physically useful role.
Thank you so much for sharing this story. It's such an articulate reminder that there is no beginning and ending of grief, you just keep going.
Thank you so much for sharing this story. It's such an articulate reminder that there is no beginning and ending of grief, you just keep going.
14
Lovely piece. As others say, keep the coat until ...you don't. As I get older I am very thankful for all the little tidbits stuck in my desk drawer, upper closet and bottom of my purse.Not too much but enough to help my less than stellar memory. When going through them looking for something else I run across mementos that bring me a quick vivid memory that provides me with a smile or chuckle on my search. My brother was visiting and wanted a pen and went looking for it in my top desk drawer. The first thing he saw when he opened the drawer was two different baby shoes. What are these, he wanted to know and why are they in the desk? Those are a baby shoe of each of my daughters and they are there because whenever I need say a stamp, I see these first and I have such a beautiful memory to pop up and give me an instant of pure joy that it is worth the extra second it took to look behind them and get a stamp. The credo should be do what brings YOU joy.
41
I've never commented on a NYTimes article but feel compelled to say this...Keep the coat! And thank you for such a beautiful story about love and loss and letting go.
12
Thank you for the beautiful remembrance of your mother. I recently suffered a great loss and am working through belongings and papers and memories. I am sending many things on to other people who can use them and keeping the things that evoke memories. When working through grief, you really understand what is important. Also, in letting go of things I feel lighter.
10
It sounds to me like the coat brings not only joy, but immense joy. I am happy you had such a wonderful mother, and was sad to hear she passed away when you were so young. Thank you for sharing your beautiful story.
10
Life reduced to a coat, keep it...
7
No need to throw out the coat.
I still have a dear friend's tee shirt, although he is long gone.
I still have a dear friend's tee shirt, although he is long gone.
12
Of course keep the coat. But why, in heaven's name, did you get rid of the bicycle? No matter where you're going, it's bound to be geographically flatter than San Fransisco. And there is no exercise more full of love and happiness than riding a bike..
5
Depending on where you're relocating, a bike can be tough to move and easier to replace.
7
A small important perception here: the standard declutter advice is that equating love with material things is pitiable; but, I, too understand that sometimes things did embody love, because they represented the work, sacrifice and dedication of that parent - or other person - for the child. They weren't easily purchased and replaced tokens. But as we lose our own feelings of deprivation and loss, we can learn to honor those feelings without the objects. But some things -- may form the kernel of a story of personal history for another generation [Keep the coat].
23
Be gentle with yourself. It's been nearly 25 years since my Mom died and I still have a beautiful plum wool coat of hers in my closet. The coat fits but I never wear it. Most of my online ordering brings me books these days. Recently after a family disaster I ordered a pair of bunny slippers online. Something silly to balance the distress. I can count on one of my grand-girls to take those. I'm at the elder end of the age spectrum and I can say that moving "stuff" out of my life still leaves more room for joyful experiences and beginning again in new ways.
15
You are a great writer. I cried when I read this. My mother was my best friend, too. She died after a long, drawn out illness. The worst moment of our entire relationship was her death. It left me on my own to deal with life and the train wreck that was my family. However, the moment of her death, although devastating, was a small fraction of the whole. The rest, sparked that "joy". I have this long, white swimming robe hanging in my closet. It reminds me of the fun rather than the death part. You are doing the right thing by getting rid of the sadness reminders. But, keep the coat. It is the good-life reminder.
27
I do wish you had saved the cranes. Keep the coat, sweetheart.
10
I am sorry, but what a sad life!
3
Not a sad life--a full life, one being lived with growth, introspection and integrity.
7
It can take years to feel healed enough to discard the mementos of a loved one. And sometimes you never do. You can declutter and keep the coat. Please do.
Beautiful story.
Beautiful story.
31
Beautifully written and v moving. Anyone who has lost a parent can relate to this. In particular, to this line: My love is not diminished if I let go of sorrow.
So true yet so hard to do...
And please, do keep the coat. You will be glad you did..
So true yet so hard to do...
And please, do keep the coat. You will be glad you did..
36
Keep the coat. I'd have kept the cranes, too, simply because they're beautiful. But if burning them made you feel better that's okay, too. Thank you for sharing.
17
Jenny beautiful, poignant eulogy to your Mom.
My son loved my father dearly to date in his home there are few mementos of me or his grandmother but he has kept my Dad's old union card from 1960's, a letter of recognition from his employer for not been late or absent in 25years even the NYC subway strike. He walked from 175th Street to 56th Street every day including his days off because he knew others couldn't make it in . No they did not pay him!!!
His sweater {stills has the lingering Chesterfield cigarettes smell},his members only jacket,a torn vest. All have safely traveled from NYC to Houston ,Louisville, now residing happily in Jacksonville, FL.
Those are the items he packs before anything else. I pray he meets someone that will appreciate his love and longing for his beloved Abuelo.
His grandson has the same work habits and take on life that my Dad showed him by just been Dad.
My son loved my father dearly to date in his home there are few mementos of me or his grandmother but he has kept my Dad's old union card from 1960's, a letter of recognition from his employer for not been late or absent in 25years even the NYC subway strike. He walked from 175th Street to 56th Street every day including his days off because he knew others couldn't make it in . No they did not pay him!!!
His sweater {stills has the lingering Chesterfield cigarettes smell},his members only jacket,a torn vest. All have safely traveled from NYC to Houston ,Louisville, now residing happily in Jacksonville, FL.
Those are the items he packs before anything else. I pray he meets someone that will appreciate his love and longing for his beloved Abuelo.
His grandson has the same work habits and take on life that my Dad showed him by just been Dad.
13
My parents were raised during the Depression by immigrants who came to America with nothing but the contents of a suitcase, so I’m a second generation hunter-gatherer, collector, and keeper. I don’t know if it’s nature or nurture, but I love all things beautiful: clothing, art, jewelry, and especially the most ephemeral of all, paper — books, photographs, letters, memorabilia, personal and purchased, new and antiquarian. But I also live in a studio apartment, and after spending the summer of 2013 clearing out my elderly parents very large flat in Miami, I realize in my middle age I need to start seriously downsizing. I thought I accomplished much during the late 1990s, the early years of eBay, when I sold and gave away hundreds of things, but I really haven’t made a dent. But why pretend that things don’t matter, when they do? For myself, I am so thankful that I saved my own work archives, because I didn’t know in 2010 my early career years were going to come back to haunt me. Had I not saved that paperwork, which is now historically significant in its own right, I might be in a mental hospital instead of almost finished a book. One simple, but critical memo is the only thing that I shred decades ago, and I mourn its loss every day I work on my project. If everyone had a “burn this” mentality there would be no museums, archives, or repositories of mankind at all. In the analogy of Jenny Qi’s mother’s coat, the one size of Ms. Kondo’s advice does not fit all.
34
Memories are very important as one reviews
their life long term. Then is THE TIME to let go
but ONLY if you want to let go of this memory
to either save for what the future might bring
as sort of a lesson learned. Thank U for sharing
your efforts. Pls keep the coat!
their life long term. Then is THE TIME to let go
but ONLY if you want to let go of this memory
to either save for what the future might bring
as sort of a lesson learned. Thank U for sharing
your efforts. Pls keep the coat!
15
Thank you; keep the coat though you clearly carry your mom inside AND on your shoulders.
36
Dear God you don't have to throw away the coat.
82
Beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
1
Beautifully written story about grief, loss and the fear of letting go of things that are NOT the people we loved.
7
Keep the coat. Keep it forever. There are some things that are not useful in any practical sense, but are useful in an emotional, heart-centered sense. You don't have to keep every last connection to your mom, but the coat should stay. Guilt-free.
121
Plus HE doesn't get to TELL YOU what YOU need to do, toss, believe !
1
Wonderfully told story by a terrific person. Please keep the coat! I thought we would "get over" our grief sooner if I gave my Dad's clothes to a good cause almost immediately. But now, 25 years later, how I would love to get into his shirt and smell and hug and imagine!
80
What a beautiful meditation on grief and love and the laws of impermanence. May peace be in your heart.
35
Thank you for this beautiful piece, Ms. Qi. Love, not stuff.
2
I am always worried when people are pushed by others to discard a memento, or all of them, with great emotional content. Those pushing this practice often have not had the experience that seeing or holding such an item brings. Sometimes joy and pain exist in the same item. Sometimes a tangible thing helps bring back an important memory with greater richness.
Discarding impulse purchases amassed as "retail therapy" is a different story. Hoarding is a different story.
Discarding impulse purchases amassed as "retail therapy" is a different story. Hoarding is a different story.
67
Keep the coat. :-)
32
Thank you for this lovely article. And sorry for the loss, which though it happened a while ago will always resonate...Speaking as one who is currently downsizing due to the impending passing of my own mom--a mom who could not get rid of scarcely a thing following the deaths of family preceding her, I both empathize AND say, it's OK to keep the coat... :) One item that sparks so many memories is certainly a meaningful and manageable shrine. The tidying books can sometimes clutter one's soul with too many admonitions.
48
Beautifully expressed. Thank you.
6
Beautiful. Thank you.
6
I too built a shrine around me after my dad died--but time allowed me to uncouple the items in the "shrine." Some were given away, others scattered around my apartment to become part of my daily life. His hat on my hat rack, a shirt in my closet, baseball glove on a shelf artfully with my own keepsakes. Grief will always be around, but that does not mean that those objects need to be absent, even in a zen apartment.
Like many, I would keep the coat as it still brings you joy. I have a small collection of clothes from a best friend, grandfather, and father who all passed. Now I'm finding out how to make them not talismans of grief but of joy (like someone's pillow suggestion).
It took a long time for me to realize I didn't need to keep living their lives, but live mine. Sounds like the writer is reclaiming her path too.
Like many, I would keep the coat as it still brings you joy. I have a small collection of clothes from a best friend, grandfather, and father who all passed. Now I'm finding out how to make them not talismans of grief but of joy (like someone's pillow suggestion).
It took a long time for me to realize I didn't need to keep living their lives, but live mine. Sounds like the writer is reclaiming her path too.
5