Healing “Stuff”

This post was written for Five Minute Friday. The prompt was Stuff.

As I stand in my garage, my heart feels heavy, gazing at the endless array of “stuff” I’ve accumulated over the years. A year and a half ago, when we moved to another city, I took great pride in purging a significant portion of my belongings. But the truth is, despite my efforts, I still find myself surrounded by too many things.

Some items are just too important to part with. They are vessels of memory, remembrances from family and friends who have left their mark on my life. As the holiday season approaches, my relationship with this stuff becomes even more pronounced. Among everything cluttering my space, the ornaments resonate most deeply within me. Each is not just a decoration; it’s a precious memory encapsulated in glass and glitter.

This time of year, as I pull out the boxes filled with ornaments, I feel a mix of emotions wash over me. There’s joy as I remember the laughter and love that came along with each ornament’s story. Yet, there’s also a pang of sadness, a reminder of those no longer with us. Grief and nostalgia intertwine, creating emotions that I both cherish and mourn. My brother, Tom Dixon, has written a song entitled “Empty Chair.” In it, he writes how that chair can bring both sadness and joy. The chair symbolizes a strong life; now we only remember who sat there.

The act of decorating the tree can sometimes become a bittersweet ritual. Each piece evokes moments shared—family gatherings, childhood traditions, and the laughter of those we’ve lost. But that’s what makes this “stuff” healing. If tears spring to my eyes while I hang an ornament, that’s okay. It’s part of the process. Grief isn’t linear; it takes shape in many forms, sometimes catching us off guard in the most unexpected moments.

As I place each ornament on the tree, I pause to remember. I want to honor what each piece represents, the love and joy attached to it. I find solace in the fact that these ornaments are not just clutter; they embody the connections and memories that define us. They remind us that love persists in tangible ways, even in the face of loss.

I invite you to join me in cherishing these little reminders of our loved ones this holiday season. Let’s embrace the beauty in our stuff—the healing that comes from honoring our past, grief, and joy. Whether it’s an ornament, a family recipe, or a photograph, each item tells a story that deserves to be celebrated.

As we gather around our trees and families, let’s remember those no longer with us and find comfort in our memories. Grief can be a heavy weight, but it can also be a pathway to healing. Let’s acknowledge that the stuff we hold dear can connect us to those we’ve lost and remind us that love truly knows no bounds.