Opinion: Discovering a house full of memories

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I said I would do it and I have. Painted the interior of my sister Lesley's house over the summer holiday.

Of course I had help. I was the gofer really, not the main man. But I can assure you I held up my end. I thought it might be an onerous task but it wasn't. It turned out to be a labour of love.

When my nephew asked me to find someone to do the job I hesitated. It's not that I was keen to spend my summer break stuck inside painting. I just didn't want someone, a stranger, in Lesley's home touching her belongings and moving things about.

She was a private person and I know she wouldn't have liked that either. I thought I might get a little tearful at times, she's only been gone three months and lived her last six months with me. But that didn't happen. Not once. In fact I would catch myself smiling and laughing many times.

I did a similar painting job once before for my other nephew. That house was empty. It's so much easier when you don't have to move furniture around. But taking it a room at a time, you see and make progress quickly. I didn't bother with music or have the radio on, which was unusual for me. I just enjoyed the peace and quiet. Zoned out you could say.

Painting away lost in my own thoughts. When do we ever get the time for such luxury? I'm convinced now we should make time. Not necessarily for painting but for activities we can lose ourselves in. I also know that being the gofer is just as important as using the roller.

I encountered memories in every room. I never thought of my sister as a hoarder but what she kept was obviously important to her. And she kept lots. Her two sons' laminated place mats when they were little "Philip's Place" and "Ross's Place".

She had a child's dinner plate, showing a dairy maid milking a cow, that I remember from my childhood. The prayer book she received on her first holy communion. And plenty of Christmas and birthday gifts too, still in their wrappings.

She must have given up opening them after 2012 because all the cards still attached seemed to be from 2012 onwards.

Her son told me to go through the house and take what I wanted. I wouldn't do that without my sister Donna Rae being present. It wouldn't be right. But children are funny. The things I thought he might be interested in, not at all.

We used to tease Lesley. She was one to keep things "for best". For when visitors came. The towels she used were not how I like them, lovely and thick. She said they didn't need to be.

But there's a cupboard of quality towels that have never been used. Kept I suppose for the visitors she never really encouraged anyway. It was only ever "my boys".

A china cabinet with wedding presents from 54 years ago. Hardly used. I even remember who they were from. A small house full of memories. But I understand now that they are not my nephew's memories. He'll make his own memories. He wants to start with a clean canvas.

I read something this week that made me think about what we'll remember when we get old. And the regrets we shouldn't have.

Like, not travelling when we had the chance, working too much, not spending enough time with family, staying in a bad relationship, never taking a big risk, not realising how beautiful we are, caring too much about what other people think, not quitting a horrible job, being afraid to say I love you.

Memories are wonderful to recall. They are always with us, although they may fade a little over time. But a life lived with few regrets, that's a life well lived. Such a life creates a huge memory bank.

Merepeka lives in Rotorua. She writes, speaks and broadcasts to thwart the spread of political correctness.