This weekend my siblings and I started the journey of getting my mom’s house ready to sell.  First, we attempted to work out what needed to be done.  There was/is some disagreement about that.  A couple of different minds sets in regards to what is important. I am trying to keep the bigger picture in my head about differing opinions (…that being, ‘Is this something important enough to fight about and potentially damage long term relationships or can I just suck it up?’).  We then moved on to ‘who wants what?’, ‘where is that?’, ‘what needs to stay to show?’, ‘what needs to go?’. Finally, ‘who is doing what?’

Once set to my task I was overwhelmed with the idea that this was it, my mom is dead and here we are amongst her things making decisions. Things she had gathered around herself; a collection of clothes, books, objects, furniture, that we were sorting through. The detritus of a life lived.  Monetary and sentimental value aside, it was just all this stuff.  Inert, pointless, and overwhelming.  So much and so little at the same time.

Just memories and stuff.