Sentimental to Clutter Ratio

Listen to this reflection by playing the video below or continue down the page to read the full text version.

Procrastination has never been a trait that Amy or I shared. Typically, if there was an unpleasant task, like dusting the bedroom or cleaning out the storage room, we both agreed it was better just to pick a date and time and get it done. We always felt a sense of satisfaction and accomplishment after completing the task.

Clutter was a particular annoyance to Amy. The Sentimental to Clutter Ratio was always less than one in Amy’s world. Her philosophy was when in doubt, throw it out. On the top of her annoyance list was a box of keepsakes we had kept from our short dating period. Amy and I had a long-distance relationship. She lived in Milwaukee, Wisconsin and I lived in Springfield, Missouri. Before the advent of texting and cell phones, we corresponded the old-fashioned way, letters and long-distance phone calls.

The keepsake box contained very personal and embarrassingly sappy letters from our short courtship. She attempted to throw it away multiple times, but I was able to fend her off. They also contained some poetry I wrote her. It is not well known that I must have written her about a dozen poems that at the time I thought were not half bad. Unfortunately, it looks like Amy conducted a clandestine operation and was able to purge the box from our closet unnoticed.

Her disdain for clutter once caused a bit of a cold war in our marriage. During our honeymoon in Maine, we had splurged and purchased a watercolor of a coastal scene from one of the area’s artists, Nancy St. Lawrence. It had hung in our bedroom in the early years of our marriage, but did not match the décor after we had moved into our house. It had been banished to storage under our bed for more than a decade. When we remodeled our bedroom, Amy was halfway to loading it in the car to be taken to Goodwill before I intercepted her. My Sentimental to Clutter Ratio was very high for this painting. Fortunately, upon inspection it actually matched our new color scheme quite by accident and is now prominently displayed.

There is one task I have procrastinated on completing since Amy passed. I have been unable to even contemplate cleaning out the closet of Amy’s clothes. I know there are no expectations or timelines I have to adhere to and everyone moves at their own pace, but the thought of sorting through her clothes has been unbearable to me. At first, I told myself there was no rush, it can wait until after Thanksgiving, then her birthday, then Christmas, and then our anniversary.

Each day, however, I start fresh with the painful reminder that Amy is no longer here. Finally, I took the first step and purchased 10 boxes in which to transfer everything. The boxes remained stacked in my bedroom for several days, before I finally called Amy’s sister Mary to peruse through and pick out anything she might want. The day after our anniversary, I sorted and boxed the clothes. It was as painful as I had anticipated.

Removing her clothes had a feeling of finality that was unwelcome. I believe if I had waited another year, I probably would have felt the same. I had hoped that upon completion I would feel some sort of satisfaction or accomplishment in moving forward. Instead, I feel sad and, just like the closet, empty.