Too Many Books

This post is just an update...I had all sorts of things I wanted to blog about the things we have been doing...We have been having a great time in Boston and we love it! For the past couple of weeks we have been relaxing, seeing a few sights in Boston, and getting things set up here. We had our stuff shipped here from Hong Kong and had Dad's stuff shipped here from storage in LA. I knew it was going to be a lot of work to go through all of Dad's stuff, not to mention the emotional upheaval it would cause, so we got here two weeks before my school starts in hopes of having plenty of time to unload everything and get organized. However, the moving company was late, and it arrived a few days ago. Of course, it was the only day that Matt or I had any plans. I had my school orientation and Matt had a job interview. Matt rescheduled his job interview, and it was probably for the best the I wasn't around for the unloading. Moving men are always so surly and gruff, and I think the sight of them gives me post traumatic stress disorder of when they came to clear out Dad's house two years ago. They couldn't fit the piano OR the couch through the doorway to our house. This is a MAJOR bummer. The good news is that the rest of Dad's furniture fits perfectly and things had been going relatively smoothly...till today.

Today I have set the task for myself of going through all of Dad's books. There are 25 boxes of them. The boxes took up the entire living room. Believe it or not, two years ago, I got rid of half of Dad's book collection, so this is the better half of the original collection. There is no way that all of these books will fit in my house and they definitely don't fit in the bookshelves. So...I have been sorting through them and getting rid of ones that I want less than the others. This is a really draining job, much more than you would think. Part of me feels like I am being a traitor or a horrible daughter for getting rid of things that I know my Dad loved. He loved books! The other part of me feels really bitter and mad that I am a prisoner of Dad's stuff. A book collection is a really personal thing. It is a lot of information about things that the person who accumulated the books is interested in. I am not necessarily interested in the things Dad was interested in, and for things we are both interested in, I don't really need a lot of books about the subject. For instance, there were two full boxes of books about hiking trails in the Sierras. I love hiking in the Sierras but all that information is online or available at a Ranger Station. And, he had about a kajillion coffee table books. They are beautiful but heavy and probably wouldn't get much use. There is really no room for that in my small apartment.

I am not a prisoner of my own belongings...Matt and I travel pretty light and are too young to have accumulated so much stuff. Plus, I get rid of things of my own so that I can fit into the space I have. But I feel really guilty getting rid of stuff that is Dad's, especially cause he told me he wanted me to keep all his stuff after he died exactly the way it is. That is really unfair to me. I am sure he was joking, but still...I sold his condo, so I already messed that one up. Anyway, today for some reason I am getting all stressed out again like I was after Dad died and I was going through his stuff the first time. I hate it! Plus, this is really mean to say, but I am sick of thinking about him and doing stuff that he would have wanted it. I want to get on with my own life. I think I still have my own life...maybe I should never have left Hong Kong, you can easily avoid reality and unpleasant subjects there. Grandma made a photo album about Dad and when I was at her house this summer I didn't even want to look at it. It is so mean, but I am just so sick of memorializing him and thinking about his life.

Matt has been great though...he doesn't care about belongings, his own or anyone elses. He wanted to unpack Dad's antique Buddha from Myanmar. I was like, "NO! I am afraid it is broken, don't open it, ignorance is bliss!" Matt was like, "If it is broken, so what? We don't need a buddha anyway. It's heavy." So he opened it up and my heart was going a mile a minute cause I was afraid it would be broken and I would feel responsible. It was fine, and afterwards I was angry. It is not fair, it isn't even my Buddha, and I was almost having a heart attack about it, as if Dad would zoom down from wherever he is and be mad at me.

Whatever...these are just weird issues I have. I need to get over it and let go of his belongings because he is dead and holding on to them doesn't help.