I just finished carefully removing and wrapping in newsprint the full set of beautiful, formal dishes with their pearly white glaze and tasteful gold rims. I still love the dishes, so delicate and elegant, but I no longer felt it was fair to them, languishing in the cupboard as they were. They are on their way to Wendell’s daughter and I am imagining her serving many fabulous meals to her friends, continuing the story that began when her parents bought them in Germany so many years ago.
Have you noticed that letting go of things is not simple and easy? Hanging on to those dishes allowed me to cling to my decades long dream of being an excellent cook who good naturedly whipped up food that everyone raved how delicious it was. Cooking for people is a way that my mother showed her love for family and I aspired to this form of love. For me, though, the stress of rushing around and managing multiple entrees wasn’t all that much fun and I admit that many times, I didn’t feel loving.
I wanted to be reading and writing, creating something other than food. Passing on this set of dishes feels like a relief to the Nicky that I always was but didn’t know how to give birth to, the Nicky that I am finally becoming.
When I cook these days, it is usually by helping Wendell remember how to rustle up my brother’s ribs recipe, the ones wrapped in aluminum foil with apple juice. On maybe another day, I sort through the big basket of recipes to find the crinkled up brown paper card that contains the original pork roast recipe with ginger and curry that I made for Wendell when we first got back together. Wendell recreates it and adds his signature apples and onions.
I didn’t realize the conflict these dishes kept alive in me until I decided we needed more cupboard space. Once the decision was made to pass them on, I denied that they had anything to do with me personally. Then I felt angry that I didn’t have enough energy to use them. Followed by days of free floating anxiety. Eventually, I realized that I wasn’t dealing with the actual dishes themselves, I was fussing with the feelings they stirred up. I needed to analyze all the layers of feelings I was facing. Finally, when I was able to make peace with not being in the kitchen like my wonderful charismatic mother and learn how to celebrate the gifts of my current age, the dishes and I both experienced new life.
The next time you decide to let go of something, take your time. Give yourself the time and space. Understand the relationship you have enjoyed with what you are about to give to someone else. And let me know if when sorting out your possessions, you too go through the stages of grief as I did.
IMAGE: The Guardian has weathered the storms we’ve endured here in Iowa.
