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Kelt · 07-28-2015, 08:48 PM

I just got an email from one of the people I have working at my folks house. The estate sale begins tomorrow morning. I don't have any attachment to the house, I'd only seen it twice before my father's stroke. They only had it 8 years.

But, the stuff inside, I really didn't go through it much, what would I keep? Furniture? Full up. Art? Most of it paintings done by my grandmother who died when I was 4, her life in Hawaii, I only remember (vaguely) one visit even though I gather she travelled with us quite a bit. Knick knacks from the global travels I wasn't a part of, cool stuff, but not my memories.

Most of the things from my childhood were the regular things, the good china and silver from holidays, they were posh at the time but nowadays so many people in their 80's are dying and there isn't much value to them on the market and nobody entertains like that anymore. Certainly not me, and my folks hadn't used those things for 30 years or more. It's just a little weird to know all those things won't be somewhere in a cupboard anymore. If it's this strange having only the early part of my life erased in a distant sale, how weird is it going to be for my mom?

It's 60 years of her life and maybe all of her memories. She's having a hard time remembering much without the visual queues around her. She has some things, it was hard to convince her to take anything, in the midst of her grief. She got so mixed up when it was time to pack, I gave her two weeks, she kept sorting things for the sale (something I'd told her not to since others would) and not thinking about the things she would want for herself. In the end I had to figure out what one little old lady in a one bedroom apartment would need and pack it in two days. I feel badly that I couldn't let her have longer to cull through her life and pick through the small things. But she wouldn't, and now it's really too late.

I'm driving the 400 miles back over on the 9th for a week of meetings with guys in suits, signing off the papers to list the house for sale, and taking my mother up on Mount Rainier (where her parents met) for a day trip and spreading my fathers ashes. Illegally.

There is no family, my mother doesn't know anyone anywhere.

I feel like some kind of monster for doing this to her.

07-28-2015, 08:48 PM	#148
Kelt Senior Member How Do You Identify?: Beach Butch Join Date: Oct 2010 Location: SoCal Posts: 2,751 My Photo Gallery Thanks: 19,765 Thanked 15,285 Times in 2,538 Posts Rep Power: 21474853	I just got an email from one of the people I have working at my folks house. The estate sale begins tomorrow morning. I don't have any attachment to the house, I'd only seen it twice before my father's stroke. They only had it 8 years. But, the stuff inside, I really didn't go through it much, what would I keep? Furniture? Full up. Art? Most of it paintings done by my grandmother who died when I was 4, her life in Hawaii, I only remember (vaguely) one visit even though I gather she travelled with us quite a bit. Knick knacks from the global travels I wasn't a part of, cool stuff, but not my memories. Most of the things from my childhood were the regular things, the good china and silver from holidays, they were posh at the time but nowadays so many people in their 80's are dying and there isn't much value to them on the market and nobody entertains like that anymore. Certainly not me, and my folks hadn't used those things for 30 years or more. It's just a little weird to know all those things won't be somewhere in a cupboard anymore. If it's this strange having only the early part of my life erased in a distant sale, how weird is it going to be for my mom? It's 60 years of her life and maybe all of her memories. She's having a hard time remembering much without the visual queues around her. She has some things, it was hard to convince her to take anything, in the midst of her grief. She got so mixed up when it was time to pack, I gave her two weeks, she kept sorting things for the sale (something I'd told her not to since others would) and not thinking about the things she would want for herself. In the end I had to figure out what one little old lady in a one bedroom apartment would need and pack it in two days. I feel badly that I couldn't let her have longer to cull through her life and pick through the small things. But she wouldn't, and now it's really too late. I'm driving the 400 miles back over on the 9th for a week of meetings with guys in suits, signing off the papers to list the house for sale, and taking my mother up on Mount Rainier (where her parents met) for a day trip and spreading my fathers ashes. Illegally. There is no family, my mother doesn't know anyone anywhere. I feel like some kind of monster for doing this to her.