Skip to content
English

"Reliving Her Life"

One of our friends recently forwarded a post from Facebook, and it struck me deeply. It beautifully illustrates how objects and memories intertwine to form the fabric of our personal histories. The emotions, anecdotes, and connections we tie to these items are astonishingly vivid—even decades later.

The post, written by Melissa Vaughan, reads:

A friend posted this writing today and it struck me that someday EVERYONE will go through this discarding of “things” that are the memories of one’s life. Sometimes it’s our own and more often it’s the life of someone we love…..❤️

When my mom was cleaning out her house over 23 years ago to sell it, I wasn't very sympathetic over her attachments to things. I would go over on weekends to help her and we would go through things, things for a yard sale, things to donate, things to throw away. I would usually get upset over how long it was taking her to decide. For instance, we were going through kitchen cabinets and she spent 20 minutes looking at an iron kettle with a lid. Finally I said,
“Mom, at this rate it is going to take us another 2 years.”
She told me that her mother used to make meals in that kettle and leave them at doorsteps of neighbors during the depression, mom would deliver them, and then they would reappear back to her with an apron, or a wood carving, something in return for the meal. I realized that everything that my mom was going through was really a reliving of her life.

elderly-women-walking-together

If you are reading this and are under the age of 60, you won’t get it. You haven't lived long enough. Most of you have not had to move your parents into a nursing home, or emptied their home. You haven't lived long enough to realize that the hours you spend picking out the right cabinets, or the perfect tile will not be what matters in the later years. It will be the handmade toothbrush holder, or a picture that you got on vacation.

So, if your parents are downsizing, and moving to smaller places, or selling a home, give your mom and even your dad a break. Those things that you don't understand why they can’t just pitch, and why you think you know what needs to be tossed or saved, give them a little time to make their decisions. They are saying goodbye to their past, and realizing that they are getting ready for their end of life, while you are beginning your life.

As I have been going through things, it’s amazing just how hard it is to get rid of objects. But, life goes on, and you realize they are just things, but sometimes things comfort us. So give your parents or grandparents a break. Listen to their stories, because in 40 years, when you are going through those boxes and the memories come back, it will be hard to get rid of those plastic champagne flutes that you and your late husband used at a New Year’s party 40 years ago. You will think nothing of the tile or the light fixtures that were so important then.

As happy as they are for you, and as much as they love you, you just don't have a clue until it happens to you and then you will remember how you rushed them, and it will make you sad, especially if they are already gone and you can’t say I’m sorry, I didn’t get it.
~ Original Post Melissa Vaughan

This reflection moved me, not only because it shows how deeply personal such objects can be, but because it raises a profound question: Is it the object itself that matters, or the act of finding a symbol of our past?

In Melissa’s story, her mother was surrounded by her memories—left to sift through them alone, at her own pace. While there’s value in solitude for moments of reflection, I wonder if sharing these memories with loved ones can transform them into celebrations rather than separations.

When we listen to these stories, we do more than hear words—we bring moments of the past alive again. The objects become bridges, connecting generations, transferring emotions, and preserving history. In this act, we turn private reflection into shared legacy, transforming the burden of "letting go" into a celebration of what once was.

So, if you find yourself helping a parent, grandparent, or loved one sort through their belongings, take Melissa’s advice: Give them a break. Listen to their stories, ask about the memories tied to each object, and let the conversation flow. These moments of connection, as small as they might seem, can be among the most meaningful gifts we give to one another.

Reliving life isn’t just about revisiting the past—it’s about sharing it, cherishing it, and making it a part of the present. What are your thoughts? Have you experienced something similar? Let’s share and connect—these stories deserve to be told.