For real. Not everything is a family heirloom. You need to talk to your parents about their stuff! I’m seven years in on this caregiving journey even though my careship has officially ended. Both my parents have passed, and my duty to provide for their well being is no longer the cornerstone of my day. However, I have inherited the emotional burden of managing their belongings and it haunts me with a frustration that hurts just like their deaths.

I think we all have issues with our “stuff”. Konmari and The Home Edit wouldn’t have relevance if we knew how to manage it. We know how real the struggle is when it comes to maintaining order over our personal belongs but throw in the effects of passed loved ones and you might as well B Line yourself straight a psychotic break.

For those of you that have been here for a while, you know that downsizing my family’s house has taken years. Literally YEARS! And for all the frustrations it has caused me, I also recognize how lucky I am to have had the time to get it sorted. It’s been the most time consuming process. I face every item with “Do I like this? Do I need this? Is it valuable? Should I keep it?” And those are the questions that come before the questions of where, who, and why I should donate particular items. This constant curating of things that aren’t even mine consumes me. I become overwhelmed with making decisions and annoyed that instead of pursuing my own ventures, I’m debating whether things like antique dolls are worth posting on EBay?

Everything is like this. When it’s not dolls it’s figurines or furniture, old cameras, or family VHS tapes. The photo albums and home movies are a league of their own entirely but nonetheless stuff is stuff and the space it consumes both physically and in my head is vital. The china I’ve found use for but even that is a collection that is far larger than anything I have the mental capacity to address. It’s a lot. And again, in so many ways, I am lucky because I had time…

After my parents passed, I inherited the house (read inherited mortgage) and so all that has remained essentially is mine; the burden all the heavier knowing what remains is the bridge between their life and my own.

I don’t think our parents understand that the things they cared for and the stuff they tended to are the pieces of themselves they leave behind. It’s not the figurines that matter. It’s knowing that they cared for figurines.

I recently cleaned out an old cedar chest that was full of my mom’s belongings. I peeked in it once before and aborted the idea. I wasn’t ready. But leave it to a slow, rainy weekend to source some motivation, or more accurately a little courage. The chest was full of heartache. Inside I discovered my mom’s habits. Her meticulous care for her own treasures. Along with her wedding dress, I found the little sacks of rice that were thrown at her wedding which was in the early 70’s. I found her own childhood dolls; ones I know are antiques because they were her’s in her youth. Perhaps the most difficult was a box I found labeled “Ashley’s Coming Home Outfit.” Do you have any idea how difficult it is to see your dead mother’s handwriting on a box that has delicately archived your first article of clothing?! The tissue paper was stained brown from age, yet it was carefully protecting an outfit that she hand made for me! Hand made!!!!!

As I pulled the items out the chest I found layers of this kind of stuff. I found my first shoes and a christening outfit she made me. I found an antique baby’s brush and comb set. I found a baby blanket and crib mobile, still in it’s original box, safe and protected from the world which I imagine is the same care she wished to provide me.

Ultimately, the chest was full of heartache. My feelings are no different having found that stuff although I wonder about those of you whom might soon find yourself on a similar journey, only to discover secrets or things you’d be fine just not knowing. I would have been fine having never discovered those items. If anything, my days might be a bit more carefree. Instead I now have the emotional burden of making decisions around the things that I know my mother cared for. And knowing that care existed, and so sweetly to pack these items away, fills me with dread. It’s an emotional labor to decided what to do with these things. They are sentimental. Not to me, but to my mom, and it’s in her honor that I feel this hurt. It’s her burden I’m now forced to carry.

Maybe you already feel this burden. Perhaps what’s looming already gives you anxiety. But if you have parents with the mental capacities to make choices for themselves, start the conversations around your fears now. If you need a coach for this, please know that I am here! I will straight talk you or your parents into getting this process rolling because your own promise, your own human potential, is too important to be squandered in stuff paralysis. Whatever time you spend sorting through someone else’s affairs is time away from you working on you. What about your goals, your dreams, your own personal pursuits of any kind. And I’m not talking about a stuff stroll through memory lane. I’m talking about the work of weekends, vacation days, work leave or literally moving because your family member needs help and can no longer manage their life on their own. When the freedom in your life become swallowed by another’s needs, the dynamic shifts from offering that loving, helping hand to something of an obligation… the family duty requiring your presence and slowly stealing the limited respite in your own life that’s already in short supply. Obligation becomes sacrifice and sacrifice becomes resentment and this is what you want to avoid.

Inheritance is hard. Are your ready to tackle your parents’ things? Do you want your parents’ things? Are there things that you know, even without being at their residence right now, that exists on counters and should just go in the garbage? What about broken kitchen items that are still in cabinets because someone is afraid to designate them as trash? How about the decorative candles that never got burned? Or commemorative cups or unused place-mats, or awful ruffle throw pillows that all live in a home that’s vacant of decisions… Now is the time to speak up! Come forward and tell your parents that you don’t want said items cause chances are they think you might. Just do it. Just start because I’m telling you that agonizing over “stuff” can trivialize the real memories. The ones you want to cherish and hold dear but are suppressed by burden…

Not everything is a keepsake but if you are left with it all, you will have to work to figure out what is. I’m not saying go start a purge. Just start the talk.