Motivated by so many friends losing all their possessions in the Palisades and Eaton fires, and marching inexorably toward old age, I have just read The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning by Margareta Magnusson.
What I really want is to make things as easy as possible for my two children once my husband and I have passed our live-by date. Like my mother did for my brother, sister, and me. Since Mum had lived for an impressive 89 years, it wasn’t too much of a shock when she died. More impressively, she had all her papers in order for when her time came. Everything we needed was in one folder. She’d been pointing out this folder to me for the previous 30 years.
It was deeply moving and actually a happy time as my brother, his daughter, my sister, my daughter and I went through the thousands and thousands of family photos. Dad was a photographer, so it should be no surprise that there were so many.
Family gatherings and outings were remembered fondly. We shared the photos we didn’t already have copies of and bagged the rest for the public dump after one of us remembered that it’s supposedly bad luck if you tear up or burn a photograph with a face on it.
Incidentally, Margareta Magnusson recommends not starting with photographs if you are on a mission to death clean, or downsize as she also calls it. “It can be a lot of fun and a bit sad to go through photographs and letters, but one thing is certain: if you start with them, you will definitely get stuck down memory lane and may never get around to cleaning anything else.”
While going through my parents’ possessions, I looked at the awful picture that hung in their living room—the first thing you’d see as you walked in—and felt a mild sense of joy that I would never have to behold it again. It’s a Torino print of a woman’s portrait described online as “kitsch”. Like that’s a good thing.
Dad bought it in either Malta or Gibraltar, places he visited regularly for work, more than sixty years ago. I have included a photo of this actual Fordham family heirloom, so you can see for yourself how terrible it is.
I asked my children if there was anything they’d like to keep as a memento of their grandparents. My son asked if he could have the picture of the woman in the gold frame. Unfortunately, even after bubble wrapping, it fit snugly in the bottom of my suitcase. I carried the portrait to my son’s home in Fiji, where it now hangs on his bedroom wall.
My husband and I have just returned from visiting him (taking towels as part of my death cleaning). He had gallantly given us his bedroom and moved into his son’s room, so we were forced to look at the picture for most of our trip.
I decided to treat it with more respect and wondered if she might be worth real money, because time has a way of adding value to odd things, and did a quick Google. $34.99. $150 if it’s an original, which ours isn’t.
When Nanny Fordham died, my dad asked his brother, George, who lived with Nan and Grandpa up until their deaths, if he could have something to remember Nan by. He gave Dad Nan’s toenail clippers. Dad was thinking more of a framed photograph. But Uncle George destroyed all the photos, as it was too painful for him to see them.
Magnusson, the best-selling author and death cleaning expert, told anyone who asked her age that she was between 80 and 100. She died in March this year, aged 92. Her humor shines through what might be a depressing book in less talented hands. I thoroughly recommend it. A renowned artist in her native Sweden, Magnusson wrote other books including The Swedish Art of Aging Exuberantly. My kind of woman.
I followed Magnusson’s advice and started my death clean by sorting out clothes: keep or donate. Favorite books and jewelry should be given away to friends or family you think might enjoy them, she says. Crucially, don’t be disappointed if something you consider fabulous is rejected by your loved ones because it’s not to their taste. To be clear, I am in excellent health and hope to be around for a long time. I just have too much stuff that I don’t need or use.
None of the items I chose to bring to Topanga from England after Mum died have any shock or monetary value, but they are priceless to me. I’m not religious, but I took Mum’s bible that she kept by her bedside to read in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep.
There are also two of Mum’s blankets, a couple of kitchen items she kept on the window sill, a vase, the angel figurine from the spare bedroom, the tea set my sister bought her but she wouldn’t use as it was too special and delicate, Dad’s pink watering can, and Mum’s shopping bag. Plus two pots Dad found on his work trips. All meaningful to me.
Mum wore dad’s straw hat after he died (seven years before her). He wore it for forty years. Now it’s mine. Someone must have sat on it at some point, as it was badly misshapen, worn and torn. I took it into Topanga’s Busto & Sun Custom Hats and the owner, Enrico Busto, repaired it free of charge. It was steamed, re-shaped, glued and sewn, almost good as new. I was deeply touched by Enrico’s kindness and craftsmanship.
One friend discovered after her mother died that she had hidden cash inside the pages of her many books but never mentioned it. My friend found it by accident when she was packing the books in boxes for the charity shop. Another’s deceased relative had buried her jewelry in the garden, but forgot to say exactly where and it was never found.
Most importantly, we must leave a will and ensure our children know how we’d like our end of life care to be. In case they forget (and relatives often do), if I am in a coma or vegetative state with no hope of recovery or cure, pull the plug.
A mother of five, Magnusson suggests removing any sex toys you may have, as it might be shocking for your children to find them. After my husband and I had finished lamenting how boring we are that we don’t have any sex toys to leave for the kids to find and had organized all our important papers in a fireproof box, we started brainstorming ways to surprise the children after we’re dead.
We settled on putting a gun, fake passports (in different names and nationalities) and a smattering of foreign currency into a safe deposit box. Along with the ring I bought my mother (after she admired it) that looks like three big diamonds, but only cost £26.50 from Marks & Spencer (a British department store and much-loved retail institution). Mum thought that was too expensive and said I was foolish to waste my money. I often wear it and whenever anyone comments on it, as they often do, I say with pride, “It was my mother’s.”
The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning by Margareta Magnusson and bustoandsun.com
