If you have ever dealt with the possessions of the dead, you probably know what I mean. You take things away and leave behind emptiness, and everything you remove—every sheet and pillowcase, every lost sock and old razor—erases a little bit of the dead person’s footprint in the world. You picture your own home being carted away, piece by piece, hopefully by loved ones and not by strangers.
I thought basically this exact thought after my grandparents died. How the things that had been so important to them became little more than an inconvenience for the part of the family that was cleaning out their house. So much was just thrown out and it felt more than a little sad to me.
