The Grief of Downsizing

I am an 81-year-old retired hospice chaplain who is deeply involved in Grief work.  My present Grief is that of needing to move to a senior care facility, about which I wrote the following this week.  I have learned that Grief has many facets, among which is my current downsizing.  I was a late-life wife at age 59 and a widow 9 years later.  Then the dog died, and I began to be aware of Grief which I always capitalize because I think it's sacred.

Prompt from Meryl Marshall-Daniels, Writing from the Inside Out:

What’s alive in you now?

Having spent the last year touring independent living facilities only to be brought up short by a recent fall, what is alive in me now is the end of my life.  My ideal of independent living has taken a setback as I realize my end may not be so graceful after all, and I may actually require assistance. Oh, dear, the dream of a heart attack in the night is still alive, but may not be realistic.  So, as I settle on the appropriate level of care for my going forward, I am confronted by the necessity of downsizing and all that means. 

The furniture seems easy enough – or is it?  I think about the settle I once acquired from a monastery.  A settle is a small bench designed to hold all one’s earthly possessions.* Is that even possible in our capitalist culture and our addiction to shopping society?

What’s alive for me now is paring myself and my possessions down to the barest minimum in anticipation of moving into around 1,000 square feet or less.  Oh, my, the reality is so close as I think legacy thoughts having no children.  One little step at a time makes a difference to be sure, and every step seems almost petty it’s so small.

What’s alive in me now – this moment?  My delight in the hummingbirds I now have to pay someone to feed.  My swimming pool I must maintain even though I haven’t been in it in 17 years.  My trees which invite me to feel grounded – those beautiful redwoods which have no business being by a pool.  My cats must go with me as they carry their lives with them.  My books. My papers. My history.

All of these are alive in me now that I must face letting them all go.  Yes, friends, death is alive in me now as I consider the start of my final chapter and decide what really belongs in the settle.

*My settle is 31” x 22” and stands 19” tall, but the height includes 4” of airspace underneath the storage capacity. [Storage capacity is 29x18x14.]  In other words, “It ain’t big.”  It might hold a couple of blankets.  It’s made of 1” thick solid oak and is very heavy.

I am the proud sponsor of a Galapagos tortoise, Axl, as evidenced in this photo..