In my “spare” time, I try to go through a stack of
papers, or a box of miscellaneous items. Yesterday, I checked out the box where
I had dumped the contents from the console of the pickup before I sold it. From
the pile, I pulled out a notebook where I had, of course, made several notes. I
tore out the old notes so that I could eventually make more notes.
The book contained notes from zoom calls during
the pandemic. One zoom call listed the personnel that had been suspended,
others that had been changed to part-time, the employees who had taken on
multiple positions, and the CEO who had forgone his salary. Tough times, and
tough decisions.
Other notes in this same book were from a civic
club and how we could carry on our mission without in-person meetings.
Eventually, we changed locations so that we could socially distance while we
socialized and did our work.
I noticed to-do lists, but so many tasks remained
undone. Seeing the tasks that I never completed was more appalling than the
checkmarks indicating the jobs that I’d done.
Life is all about tasks. During my work life, I
had checklists for every monthly task I had to complete. Most mornings, I
walked into work with a plan for the day, but the day was often derailed as I
wound up putting out fires. I began to expect and anticipated the unexpected.
No matter how much I did, certain things would be left undone, hopefully to be
remembered and completed before the deadline.
The stories of my personal life are a lot like
that too. When I was a care partner for a Jim, I completed daily tasks without
a to-do list. Just when I thought I had covered everything, and went to bed for
some needed rest, my eyes fly would open and the panic set in as I had the
sinking feeling that I had left something important undone. Between work and
caregiving, I muddled through the days doing the best I could.
When we face our own mortality, we worry about the
important documents we must have and wonder whether they really will help or
hinder the process of our family’s adjustment. No matter how carefully we plan,
our family can become undone when dealing with the crucial elements as well as
the minutiae we leave behind. They can feel defeated before they start.
No one wants to root though mountains of
paperwork, deal with someone else’s personal items, collections, and
sentimental junk. Trying to figure out what to toss, donate, or sell can be
time consuming and overwhelming.
I admire people who become minimalist, but I doubt
if I can live long enough to do it on my own. I find comfort in the things that
connect me to the past and to loved ones who have gone. I know a lot of the
things I hold dear will mean nothing to anyone else.
Instead of one person’s trash being someone else’s
treasure, it will be one person’s treasure is someone else’s trash. That must
be my motivation for attempting the arduous task of doing the undone.
Copyright © April 2026 by L. S. Fisher
http://earlyonset.blogspot.com
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