It's been three weeks since Bunny died. If there's anything good about dying on New Year's Day, it's that it makes it easy for your survivors to mark the passage of time. I've very slowly been cleaning out some of the clutter that he collected over the last 25 years. I say slowly, because there's SO MUCH of it! Let's just say, Bunny had some hoarding tendencies--which is like saying a woman is a little bit pregnant. He called it "collecting," which, if you've ever seen the show Hoarders, is what all the hoarders call it. We tried to watch Hoarders once, but it hit just a little too close to home.
He made stacks of magazines and books, receipts, notes and messages, business cards--you name it, he saved it and put it in a pile. He never threw anything away. If he took up a hobby, like chess or poker, he bought every single book, VHS tape, DVD, and software program on the subject he could find. He bought clothes at least once a month. Shoes, not so much. Medicines, herbal remedies and vitamins were another favorite. And shampoo, of all things! Every time he went to Big Lots (his favorite store), he'd come back with shampoo, no matter how many times I told him we had too much already.
Living with him was the polar opposite from living in my mother's home--she threw everything away. The only things she held onto were photographs and some handmade cards that my sisters and I gave her when we were little. In Mama's house, if it wasn't put away, it was thrown away. Over the years, we lost Christmas checks, her newly renewed nursing license, and countless other important pieces of paper to her tidiness whirlwinds. Occasionally, she'd venture into the attic and clean it out, too, so it wasn't safe to hide anything there. My band-geek sister, Julie, learned that the hard way. Before she moved away from home, she stored all the band trophies she'd collected over the years (elementary, middle, and high school, then college) in the attic. One day, visiting from wherever her husband was stationed at the time, she went to the attic to visit her trophies. Cue the suspense music: duhn--duhn--duhn! Our mother had thrown the entire collection away!
At first, living with Bunny was a nice change from the way I'd grown up. Then the stacks started growing. If I threw things away, he'd get agitated. If I reorganized a cabinet or drawer to make space, he'd quickly fill it. Even when he was in the hospital, he managed to hoard things. One day I wasn't happy with the way the foot of his bed looked (all that bed making practice in nursing school apparently never leaves), so I started straightening it and making sure his feet were properly covered. The reason the sheets weren't lying flat? He'd taken the cloth napkins off each of his food trays and squirreled them away under his covers. I was appalled, and blurted out, "You're hoarding napkins??!!??" He laughed and responded, "No. I'm collecting them."
I grew tired of all the "collecting," and every time we moved was traumatic, because we had to expend a lot of effort deciding what parts of the "collections" he could live without. In the meantime, when I'd undertake a clean-up, he'd refer to me as Sarita--my mother. Then we'd laugh at his lame attempt to make me angry by comparing me to my mother. I even reported to her from time to time when I was having a "Sarita day."
The house I live in now has four bedrooms, and we moved into it 10 years ago. Since we don't have that many guests, we designated one bedroom the guest room, and each of us took a bedroom to turn into an office. Mine is cluttered many times, but it's well organized and I can have everything put away in no time. His is...breathtaking, and not in a good way. I'd post a picture, but it's too embarrassing. I've cleaned it out several times over the years, which was always an exhausting effort. Until last week, I hadn't set foot in there for the last year, because I have really bad claustrophobia, and it's packed with books, computers, papers, and everything else you can imagine. A few years ago, I had finally gotten him to agree to make his stacks in his office, rather than in the common areas, so I wasn't exposed to the collections on a daily basis.
But slowly, about a week after he died, I started cleaning out his various collections from his various hiding places. I've combed through countless old notes, cards, receipts and lottery tickets. I've bagged up one closet and one tallboy dresser full of clothes. I literally have a car full of clothes to donate to Metropolitan Ministries, most of them with the price tags still attached. That first batch is just the tip of the iceberg, but it's a start. I've also boxed up shampoo and other grooming collections. But as relieved as I feel when I gain additional the additional space, I also feel somewhat remorseful. It's almost like I'm erasing him from the house, one piece of clutter at a time. I now have boucoup room for my stuff in the master bath--which is something I've always wanted--but it doesn't give me the satisfaction I always imagined it would.
Joey and Corey were going to come over today to help me get Bunny's office cleaned out, but I decided to postpone that venture for awhile. It's the only room left in the house that hasn't been touched, where his presence hasn't been erased. It's also the room that was uniquely his. For now, I'll just leave the door ajar--the cats (particularly Sierra, who long ago appointed herself the Office Cat), like to go in there from time to time. One day we'll get it cleaned out and redecorated and I'll turn it into my new office.
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