What to keep, what to discard

I DOWNSIZED from a bungalow to a condo almost three months ago. It was stressful but the move thankfully went well and we have settled in quite nicely in the new place. Since then, we have been working on the next task of clearing the house of all the things accumulated over several decades.

I knew this would be immensely hard but it has been made tougher because I have to clear my parents’ stuff too, which they brought with them when they moved in with me. Dad has passed on and Mum has dementia so it’s up to us children to decide what to keep and what to dispose of.

But with most of my siblings living abroad, I have to coordinate with them via WhatsApp chat and video to ask what they would like to keep, which hasn’t been easy as we are all torn by sentimentality and nostalgia, two very powerful emotions.

First, let me walk you through my belongings. Let’s start with the garden: I have lots of lovingly grown plants in pots. The really special ones are the desert rose, which the Chinese call fu gui hua, or prosperity plant, that my parents grew in big antique glazed earthen pots with dragon and flower motifs that they passed on to me.

My daughter took a few of the nicest ones to her own place. But the rest deserves a new home too.

Piled up in my car porch are lovely baskets and boxes that were accumulated from years of receiving festive hampers and gifts. They are so nice I couldn’t bear to throw them out; they eventually filled up my storeroom.

Next to my front entrance is my shoe cupboard, which I must shamefully admit was in a bad state because it was rarely cleaned.

Admittedly too, I loved my shoes and bought heaps as a working woman. I was the queen of high heels, daring to swagger around in wedges and heels as high as 10cm. I was fortunate I never broke or sprained a foot, nor grew bunions.

But these became unnecessary after retirement and, fuelled by the very practical trend of matching trainers with any clothing, including formal wear, I was brought down to ground.

Shoes, like a lot of things, including humans, deteriorate when not in use.

So when I opened the cupboard to finally sort out my footwear, most had to be thrown away because soles and heels had crumbled. The inner lining had become tattered and flaking; mould had grown. All this afflicted the newer shoes I had bought, even from reputable brands. But the ones bought 20 or more years ago, made with genuine quality leather, held up beautifully and needed only a bit of cleaning and polishing.

Behind the shoe cupboard is the store room, which was filled with everything we thought to keep “just in case”, including those hampers and baskets. There was Dad’s collection of National Geographic magazines dating back to 1971.

I had talked about trying to dispose of them in the past but never quite did anything. But this time, all the magazines have been finally tied up in bundles and will have to go, together with my huge collection of books of many genres.

In the bedrooms are cupboards full of clothes, accessories, handbags and perfumes I no longer use or need. Ditto bedding, blankets, tablecloths, cushions, and covers and curtains.

The most challenging place to clear was the wet and dry kitchens. I was now the victim of too much storage space that allowed me to pack in all sorts of kitchen things, even electrical items that had broken down.

But in the process of taking out everything, I rediscovered things that I could use again, like my 25-year-old turbo broiler that is the forerunner of today’s trendy air fryer.

And tucked away in the deep recesses of the cupboards were my parents’ charcoal-burning brass steamboat, wooden coconut scraper stool, earthen stove, and pots in which my mum painstakingly brewed my confinement soups.

My sisters and I were in two minds about keeping all this. But we had to let them go because the sad fact was that none of us knew how to scrape a coconut nor manage a charcoal fire.

Both parents loved gardening, with Dad always trying to plant a variety of edibles like corn and vegetables. He was also a self-taught craftsman who could build all sorts of things, from orchid stands and chicken coops to tables and storage shelves. That’s why he has left behind a wide array of handyman tools.

Then there is a collection of crockery, glassware and cutlery spanning more than 60 years belonging to my parents and myself. We laid them all out and they filled my six-foot dining table and several folding tables.

There were many that were practically brand new as I had never used them before. And I had tonnes of Ikea wine glasses – don’t ask me why. That’s another long story.

Among the things that deeply affected me and my sister who came up from Singapore to help were Dad’s files that were kept in the glass cabinet he brought from his old house.

Going through them was like seeing my parents’ lives because Dad had documented everything: his car purchases and maintenance records, his bank and credit card statements, his meticulously handwritten receipts of the groceries he bought, the small sums of money he borrowed and paid back, his and her medical records.

I also found a file that was filled with our parents’ personal documents like their birth, citizenship and marriage certificates. It also had Dad’s school certificate examination results dated 1947 from St Andrew’s School in Singapore. Imagine, this was just two years after World War II, during which Dad and his family hid out on Batam Island, and he still managed to get credits in English Literature, Religious Knowledge, History of the British Empire, Geography, Latin Elementary and Additional Maths – and a pass in Hygiene and Physiology. Well, Dad was a grubby young man!

There were also his school leaving certs, all yellow and brittle, that described him as a young man showing promising leadership as he was a house captain and was proficient in athletics and boxing.

Strangely, Dad never showed any interest in these fields. He didn’t even watch boxing matches!

Finally, right at the back of the file were his letters of commendation and promotion as a Special Branch officer. It was wonderful to read and equally frustrating because the letters made vague references to his achievements and we kids never found what they were because Dad never talked about his work.

My house clearing task is not over but I am glad I have embarked on it because I have come to realise I should be responsible for what I have accumulated and not leave the enormous burden on my children when I am gone.

After wading through these worldly goods, I have also realised that what is most precious are records like Dad’s, which are priceless to no one but this family. That and the albums and boxes of photographs I have.

These are the visual memories of my parents that tracked their lives from youth to old age. Their friends and their children feature prominently in the photos taken in various parts of Malaysia, where my father was posted. My siblings and I will decide what we want from these albums and discard the rest.

Similarly, less well-kept are my own photos taken before digital cameras of my children that document their childhood and growing years. These are indeed precious mementoes, which I will keep for as long as I am alive. After that, it will be up to my children to keep or throw them away.

The rest, folks, are up for grabs at really bargain prices. Do come by my garage sale on July 20 and 21 and 27 and 28. You can check out the details on my Facebook or click on this link: bit.ly/4bPThRn

The views expressed here are entirely the writer’s own.