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This shovel was more than a shovel

 

My husband decided to re-organize our garage. An area I like to think of as my husband’s responsibility.

He is the main user of the stuff as well as a SAVER with a capital “S.” Me, I’m a tosser.

For example, I don’t save short bits of rope, just in case.

Nor do I save pieces of lumber because they may come in handy…someday.

The 5-gallon pail of sand? Whyyyyyyy? And how exactly did it end up in the garage?

I have to admit, Doug is a saver with extraordinary organizing skills. He can fit a lot of stuff in our garage along with our 2 vehicles.

So I shut my mouth and did my best to avoid criticizing my husband of 32 years while we decluttered our garage together.  I asked, “how can I help?” And “what can we get rid of?”

Doug decided he had too many shovels and told me I can donate the shovel I’m holding in the photo above.

Now we’re talking! I got fired up about getting rid of it until I held it in my hands. Then I realized that this very shovel once belonged to my dad (who passed away last winter).

So much about wanting to let it go.

garden shovel

I told Doug I needed a moment.  I proceeded to share some memories of my dad. Doug listened and hugged me.

It’s a very sturdy, old, and worn out shovel. I thought about dad’s strong arms using it. He was a hard worker who built his first tiny home. I wondered……did he use this shovel back then? I wanted to ask him about this.

Now I was crying. Remembering and missing my dad.

All because of a S.H.O.V.E.L.!

At that moment I could relate more than ever to clients who feel all the feels while decluttering and organizing.

Our things hold memories and the memories keep us attached to the things. Sometimes they keep us STUCK.

Let’s talk about this.  Am I able to have the memories of my dad without the shovel?

Absolutely!

Did I donate the shovel? I intended to after sharing stories with Doug but then I found a temporary spot for it on my front porch.

gardening tools

I’ll let it go before winter but I’ll keep the special memories of my dad. The shovel isn’t my dad and my dad is more than this shovel.

Dang, I miss him and that’s okay!

 

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