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moonfeeder guest blog: how I sorted through my grief

Devin VonderHaar

Moonfeeder guest blog: How I Sorted Through My Grief by Jordan Souza

Many of life’s moments call for organization by way of decluttering: a new family member, a seasonal shift, or an exciting move. These occasions of joy are made better by the thrill of reimagining a space. We love scouring Pinterest and Instagram for inspiring Before and Afters. Organization, for many of us, is life-giving and (dare I say it?) fun. Chances are, if you are reading this, you are one of many who are drawn to a life with fewer things, either because you love the minimal aesthetic or value experiences over belongings. 

But there are other, more private reasons to organize. These do not necessarily invite an Instagram post. For example, times of grief–the loss of a loved one, the end of a partnership, an unexpected career change, or a global pandemic–also require organization and decluttering. The Mayo Clinic defines grief as “a strong, sometimes overwhelming emotion for people, regardless of whether their sadness stems from the loss of a loved one or from a terminal diagnosis they or someone they love have received.”m

It is important to note that I am not a therapist, but I have experienced grief, specifically bereavement, and am using that insight (with a dash of informal research) to guide my thinking here. When I was twelve years old, my mother died of breast cancer. In my particular case, her death meant an international move for me and embracing life with a new set of parents. On her last day on earth, I opted to clean my closet. The Nancy Drew paperbacks and the plastic tub or stuffed toys were suddenly strange because her death catapulted me into a life beyond childhood, but sorting gave my hands something to do. I return to that moment frequently and use it to understand who I am and what my default coping mechanisms are: control, finding order, and productivity. As with all coping mechanisms, mine have shadows and light. Regardless, it’s helpful for me to understand them.

Six years later, after my friend suddenly lost her mother, she called me to help her sort through her mom’s clothes. We were only eighteen, and I felt ill-equipped to fold and bag the cotton t-shirts and chunky sweaters beside my sobbing friend. Her mother’s bedroom was sacred, so I tread lightly. Even though I fumbled my way through, I like to think that being there and making tea was a comfort. 

The specificity of my unique experience is, in fact, universal. The New York Times requested stories of sorting through “lifetime accumulation of possessions,” either personal or those of a loved one. They received 500 responses. One contributor noted, "Disposing of [my mother’s] physical belongings gave me the gift of realizing a love she had for me I never knew existed.”

Another found her deceased mother’s college diary and wrestled with the idea of respecting her mother’s privacy or getting to know a side of her mother she never knew. Ultimately, she read the journal and shared, “I not only feel closer to her through her words, but my understanding of her has grown beyond them. Her precious time capsule continues to reveal her, as many treasured entries remain unread.” 

Amid grief, we are tasked with “cleaning out the closet,” a metaphor for sense-making through space clearing introduced in Kendyl A. Barney’s thesis. Barney writes, “The home [...] is not merely a backdrop where grief takes place, but a dynamic and polysemic place imbedded in moments of memory, metaphors, performance, and experiences of grief and, thus, a site of profound family communication, emotion, and storytelling. The home, in essence, is a story being told.”

Barney’s research makes me think that when we declutter and organize a home (either our own or another person’s) due to loss, we write a story about the person or situation we are mourning and our identity moving forward. Consider yourself enlightened if you thought organization was merely about satisfying reel moments! 

Barney also found that families dealing with death reacted differently to clearing spaces. Some families left the loved ones’ room untouched for years, and others opted to allow the area to transform, just as the family member would have. One trend Barney noted was the keeping of at least one item: 

Despite each family’s transformation of their home, every family noted at least one item from the deceased that they continued to keep, and multiple families noted intentions to keep certain items forever. While forever preserving space was unrealistic for many families, maintaining artifacts appeared to be more common. Families preserved artifacts for any combination of three primary reasons: function, personal taste, and memorialization. (Barney)

What do these personal, academic, and anecdotal resources teach about decluttering through grief? Here are five of my personal takeaways that reflect on bereavment  specifically:

Set your own pace

If you’re like me, organizing is therapeutic. So naturally, you may run toward a tangible task to control an impossible situation. That’s okay. Many other people need to take their time. Despite what some literature tells us, there is no right way to grieve. My suggestion for folks who can’t yet go through the items one by one but do not want to see them regularly is to tenderly put them aside (in a basket, a closet, or a bin) until you are ready. 

Ask a trusted friend or family member to help

Ten years after my mother’s death, my sisters and I met in Southern California to empty her long-forgotten storage unit. It was a challenging weekend, one we memorialized with matching tattoos. One thing I know is that it was easier because I was not alone. If you don’t have family who can help, ask a friend. On the flip slide, if you see a friend struggling to work through a parent, spouse, or child’s items, gently offer your support if you feel capable. 

Share stories as you sort. 

As you go through things, consider telling the story behind them. Maybe you discover your loved one’s favorite book–take time to share a memory of them spending an entire weekend with their nose in the pages. Something as simple as going through a grandparents’ pots and pans can remind a family of the beautiful meals they made and the love that went into each of them. Data confirms the power of storytelling as we move through grief. 

Honor cherished belongings.

This is a no-brainer, but I invite you to expand your thinking. One beautifully framed photo may be more impactful than a box of a hundred photos kept in the attic. How can you find the objects that genuinely symbolize your loved ones and integrate them into your home? Maybe the pitcher your dad used at every barbeque now has flowers and serves as a centerpiece. Your brother’s favorite book is thoughtfully displayed near a photo of him on your shelf. I’ve often been surprised by the items that mean the most to me: a framed postcard in my mother’s incomprehensible script, a tapestry I imagine she bought in college draped on my reading chair.

Know you are not alone.

There are many resources on the intersecting topics of loss and organizing. Here are a few insightful ones: 

The Modern Minimalist believes organization works best when it is holistic because our relationship to places and objects is linked to our mental, physical, and spiritual wellness. This is never more true than when we are organizing through grief. In addition to therapy and the slow healer, Time, organization helped me make sense of my grief. Perhaps more importantly, organizing helped me write my story about my loss and the life I had before me. 

I believe organizing through grief–the physical sorting through of belongings–is, at its core, about facing loss and honoring legacies. 

If you’ve enjoyed reading this blog by our team member Jordan Souza, you can follow along with more of her work at her blog, Moonfeeder.