When is a thing not a thing? When it’s a story
I have a kind friend who doesn’t do clutter. She stored mine for me in her loft when I had no home.
“Why do you keep things you don’t actually need?” she asked me.
“Because of the stories attached to them”, I answered.
“You will still have the stories”, she said. Yes, but I wouldn’t have anything to remind me of them, would I?
My stories are my (hi)story and they matter – to me. The china goose with a blue mop cap my son chose for me by himself; the ceramic bear standing four paws firmly on the ground, which I commissioned a friend to make when my man had broken his leg and it wouldn’t heal -”Bear medicine”, she said; the shadow puppet theatre my daughter made me one Christmas and proudly showed me, kneeling on the floor in the windowless downstairs loo with a torch behind it to project it onto the wall. I kept the children’s first shoes too. I remember a ‘just in case’ feeling, the end of which sentence I couldn’t finish. Now that my son is gone, I can: just in case one day he is no longer here and I can hold the shoes and remember that long ago little chubby feet really did fill those shoes.
Treasured
I have more jewellery than I wear and some of it I am enjoying gifting. But some will never leave me. Most often I wear a silver pendant given to me by my late husband.
“What would you like for your birthday?”
“Please would you buy me a piece of jewellery?” I asked him.
“Oh, I can’t do that, I won’t know what you like”.
“You will”, I said, “I trust you”. It was trust well founded and though I always treasured it, in his absence it means even more now, a tangible reminder of the love he bore me.
A story
I have some huge wooden hoop earrings, African, hung with chains of fine bone. I wore them only rarely and now not at all, but I will never part with them. It was a Saturday coming towards Christmas and my 7 year old son had gone Christmas shopping with his daddy. My 5 year old daughter, practising her ‘twinkling star’ role for the school play, had stayed home with me. I needed to defrost the freezer on top of the fridge, and placed baking trays of just boiled water on its shelves. I didn’t close the door. I’m guessing my daughter went to investigate and dislodged a pan, because somehow scalding hot water was falling over her shoulder and upper arm. She shrieked, I ripped off her clothes and ran with her to the bathroom, applying and reapplying cold compresses to her poor burnt skin. She was still crying and I was still changing the compresses repeatedly, when her brother arrived home.
.
“I’ve got a present for you”, he said to her. “Would you like it now instead of Christmas?”
She unwrapped a pottery elephant, no more than 3cm high and 3cm long, perfectly sized for 5 year old little hands to hold. She stopped crying and loved that elephant.
“You should call it Burnard” he said – as witty as he was kind. I have Burnard in my hands as I write, a memory of a little boy with a big heart who grew to be a big man with an equally big heart until the very end, despite – or maybe because of – all his suffering. One day my daughter should have him with her, but for now Burnard sits by the picture of my son. My own present waited until Christmas- the huge, dangling earrings.
I have a very little house, there is nothing fancy in it but it is home to me. Everything in it is either useful, pleases me or has a story. I can tell you who gave me all the applique cushion covers, where I was and who I was with when I found the Russian dolls depicting Russian folk takes. I can tell when, where and how my late husband made the drum hanging on the wall and why I love the pottery she-wolf, all the art work and my Victorian writing desk. My home is filled with stories and the stories are of generosity and love.
Beauty
I have another kind friend (I am blessed with many of them!) who has made it her mission to surround me with beauty.
“You need it in order to thrive”, she said, long before I knew what she meant. She has gifted me silk to wear and fur to warm me, bubbles to bathe in and jewellery to bedeck me. When I have travelled, she has gifted me money for “coffee and cake” and at poignant anniversaries “for flowers or what pleases you”. To learn to receive has perhaps been the most beautiful gift of all. To truly take in such bountiful kindness, love and care, has been humbling. It has softened me. And I have come to understand that she is right: I do need beauty to thrive. My inner environment was spartan, puritanical – I knew well how to deny myself and think it necessary, even virtuous. As I have learned to accept more than basic necessities, so my inner world has become enriched. And so the cycle of receiving and giving continues.
Why do I keep things I don’t need? Because they tell me I have been loved, am loved, by beautiful people who have made my life rich and colourful. Because, in the lonely times, the spartan times, the ‘I’m not enough’ times, I can hold these things and remember.
With my love to you
Nickie
NEWS
CREATIVELY WRITING THROUGH LOSS:
If you would like to write with me please join me online for four Monday evening sessions beginning on February 10th. I may invite you to bring along a “thing” , something which has a story to tell, in its provenance, its chips and dents and memories.
Maximum group size will be 10 and we are already 7, so if you’re interested, I suggest you get in touch with me or fill in the booking form sooner rather than later. Find more information and the booking form here or email me on the address on the image.
I’d love to meet you there.
WALKING WITH LOSS – ONLINE RETREAT
A beautiful weekend ‘retreat’ for people dealing with loss of any kind, is coming up in March. Online connection and sharing, solo time in nature and creative invitations to resource you and help you honour your loss. FFI go to
www.nickieaven.com/events/
OTHERS’ NEWS
A YEAR WITH TREES: My friend and colleague Emma Capper has a unique offering of A Year with Trees. It isn’t especially for people dealing with loss, but it is a wonderful way to come into the wisdom of different trees, and trees are, by their nature I think, friends to us in our sorrow as well as our joy. For more information go to Emma’s website here.
REMEMBERING WITH CLAY– handling grief through creativity. An in person offering by two more friends, for people who are bereaved. Clay is an almost magical medium to receive your feelings and help you move through and with them. Three Wednesday mornings – 5th, 12th and 19th February in Totnes. For more information write to [email protected]
Buy me a coffee
I gift this blog and in fact much of my work, including spiritual care in the hospice and running the threshold singing group. Some of you have expressed a desire to gift me back. Thank you so much. For those of you who would like support what I do, you can, if you wish, buy me a coffee here. Thank you xx
PLEASE NOTE, THE CONTACT LINK ON THIS WEBSITE IS BROKEN. PLEASE EMAIL ME ON THE ADDRESS ON THE IMAGE ABOVE OR VISIT MY INSTAGRAM (BELOW).