That Goes There
November 2022
In the appointing of my new home, I found myself getting hung up on a dilemma I wasn’t anticipating. I’m decorating with and or showcasing what remains of Kara’s stuff. I did it without thinking. The things I currently have needed to go somewhere in this new space so I just started putting these things into places. Some of it made external sense. Like a painting from her youth on a wall that needed some color, next to a dresser topped with other ceramic art pieces she had made as a kid - gifts to me from her mother.
But some other “choices” I’m looking at and wondering, why was that my initial instinct? Like a shelf that is essentially a Kara shrine, replete with my portion of her remains, a commemorative Zippo lighter her friend had made, one of her rings, a half-drunk bottle of whiskey she had left at her friend’s cabin, also gifted to me, and a decorative gourd per our tradition.
Or the zombie baby eating its own leg, wearing her black sunhat, sitting atop the refrigerator. A thing I requested not be displayed when we moved in together. Or the bonesaw on the wall above an inherited chair. Also, an item that had to be displayed in a non-common area upon cohabitation. They creeped me out, and now they were the first things out of the box when I got the keys to the place.
I think there are some fairly obvious reasons for my decor choices. Like, love. Reverence. And guilt. Granted, some of those items, like the painting and the bonesaw, will have their final home with her family when I go out to see them for New Year’s. So I might just be appreciating them before they go.
But the real question or issue I’m having is, what the hell is an appropriate level of incorporating your deceased loved one’s items into your new home? Your post-disaster world? It’s kind of a rhetorical question because I assume that to some degree, that’s normal behavior, there is no right answer, decorate how you feel you need to for as long as you need to, yadda yadda.
But also, you have to consider what guests are going to think and feel, don’t you? Hell, that zombie baby thing has scared me a few times coming out of the bathroom, and I’ve been living with the damn thing for seven years. I suppose I’ll just let it all do what it does until it doesn’t. I still have bigger fish to fry. But in the meantime, if anyone asks me to take that baby down at any point in the foreseeable future, they can see themselves out.