Sunday 18 August 2024

The patchwork of memory - by Lu Hersey

My partner moved in with me recently, and to avoid either of us falling over furniture or stubbing our toes on unexpected boxes, we needed to clear a lot of stuff. Worse, my father has had to move into a care home, which means I'm trying to sort and clear stuff at his place too - which is all making me think minimalism is blooming good idea. 

But there are always some things you want to keep, even if they serve no practical purpose. Inside a big wooden chest I found a patchwork quilt, made long ago by my grandmother's family (seriously long ago - she was born in 1881).  Grandma was the 13th of 14 children, and I remember her telling me that anyone who visited the house when she was young had to sew a piece onto the quilt before they were allowed to leave. She said the tiny purple velvet pieces were from the mourning collar and bows she wore attached to her clothing when her father died. In fact to her, every fragment of fabric in the intricate patchwork represented a memory of a dress or blouse, or something from the household like tablecloths - a design made of memories of her family and friends, gathered by the fireside in Yorkshire, long ago.


I thought about why I wanted to keep it, now it's too fragile to use on a bed or hang on a wall. What does it mean to me? Perhaps not as much as it meant to Grandma, but it instantly conjures my memory of her  - an old woman I loved dearly, who came to live with us when I was a child. The smell of Foxes Glacier Mints and 4711 cologne. And how this patchwork quilt always rested at the end of her bed. But what will it mean to my children when I go? Even less. They might remember me telling them about my grandmother and how many brothers and sisters she had, that's all. 


Anyway, all this stuff moving has got me thinking about our memories, and the things that are important to us.

Take my father. At 96, living in a care home, his memory gets patchier by the day. After he's had a nap (he generally has at least a couple every day), he thinks it's the next day when he wakes up and demands another breakfast. The care home staff obligingly present him with one, regardless of the time - which seems like a good way to deal with someone whose reality is different and who lives two or three days in one. Like a hobbit, he has at least two breakfasts, as well as elevenses and lunch, afternoon tea and a supper or two. He also believes it's his birthday at least once every month, and I've started sending presents to avoid him getting upset and thinking we've forgotten him.

But his house, which he lived in for 50 years, refusing to move while either of his wives (not simultaneously) lived with him there, means nothing at all to him now. He never mentions it. His life is his breakfasts and birthdays, and lugubriously lamenting his forthcoming death (though he's actually not in any pain, and is well cared for). All that stuff he hoarded, that garden he worked on, those books that fill his bookcases - all meaningless to him. 

The main thing I'm learning from all this is that the things people insist on hanging onto are mostly very unimportant. Maybe keep them if they hold a memory of someone dear to you, but don't expect that object, whatever it is, to mean much to anyone else. There'll probably come a time when it won't even mean anything to you. In the end, only the people and pets you hold (or held) dear are important. (And breakfasts, if you're my dad)

For now I'll keep the patchwork quilt and maybe find some way to preserve it - a piece of folk art that people might find interesting. But the stories, like the people who made it, are long gone. That's just the way of things. How very cluttered the world would be if it wasn't.


Lu Hersey

Web: Writing the Magic

twitter/X: LuWrites

Threads: luwrites


18 comments:

Anonymous said...

What a lovely post - thank you, Lu. I've been astonished to find that at no point during this unscheduled roots-free year of having nothing with me but what fits in the boot of my Fiesta have I missed any of the useful and/or beloved objects that have been in storage since I sold up. I'm about to get my storage unit cleared. The story and the photos of your wonderful patchwork quilt, that's what to keep, cherish and share, and I'm glad you did.

Jenny Alexander said...

Haha, it's me! I didn't spot they default to anonymous here

Sue Purkiss said...

Just what Jenny said - this is a really lovely post. What a beautiful thing, that patchwork quilt. But there is also something very freeing and calming about getting rid of stuff. Perhaps it's just the thought that you won't have to do it at some stage in the future!

LuWrites said...

Thanks Jenny (I guessed it was you!) and Sue - yes it's amazing how freeing getting rid of stuff can be! At first it's hard, and then it gets easier and easier... x

Penny Dolan said...

Thanks for this beautiful post, Lu, and the story of your father's happy breakfasts, and of your grandmother's beautifully patterned quilt.

My grandmother's quilt was stitched from simple practical squares of coloured cotton, with a dark greeny-blue border. She was a reticent woman so the quilt never had any 'story', but as a child, sleeping under its secure and comforting warmth, I loved it, and the light from the paraffin stove patterning the ceiling.

Lost somewhere along the way, or it would be here, another item to cope with during the endless decluttering here. Welcoming your wise thoughts on the continual subject.

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Penny Dolan said...

Lu, sorry to raise your total Comments count by default. Blogger kept telling me a problem had been detected, then freezing. (Will it happen again? Wait and watch!)

LuWrites said...

Ha! Makes me look so popular! Thanks for the comment Penny - shame you lost the quilt your grandmother's quilt as it sounds just as special in its own way. But as you say, it would be another thing to declutter... I'm now secretly hoping it turns up for you... xx

Anonymous said...

Excellent post as always Lu x

Anne Booth said...

What a lovely post! I agree with 'The Repair Shop' suggestion too. It sounds like such a precious object. I have just started watching a series (based on a book, apparently) called 'The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning' on the free channel U, and I think you would resonate with it. I still have stuff from my parets in law and my parents, and we definitely need to declutter. We have so many photos of people we don't know - I wonder if anyone has a good idea about how to respectfully deal with them?

Joan Lennon said...

Thanks, Lu. Timely post for me too.

Mystica said...

I’m in the middle of downsizing and decluttering and it is very slow going. I find myself hovering over things, books , clothes which have no significance for anyone else. This post was made for me!

LuWrites said...

Aw thanks everyone - hope it's helpful if you're also having to declutter. Will look up the Swedish art of death clearance, which a few people have recommended.

Rowena House said...

Lovely post, Lu. I've had repeated bouts of decluttering my dad's stuff, faltering a year ago, so his possessions now possess parts of our house which I really want back. Thinking flame thrower & a big pile in the garden. Not a meaningful quilt to be seen anywhere.