I've been living in my parents home again for a year now. Mom passed in July, Daddy 6 years ago. Finally this week, we've started to rearrange the house. Right now I feel as though I've been living in a museum full of the personal things of people that have died. And they are family.
There are things here that belonged to my Father's parents. It was they that bought the house 60 years ago. There are a few things that belonged to my Mother's parents. Little things she got when they died. There are things that belonged to my Father. There are things that belonged to my Mother. So many things.
I want my siblings to come over and help go through the things. There are a few I would like to keep for sentimental reasons. But most of these things? Have become clutter. I want to put my own personality in the rooms of this house I love. Some days I feel angry that I have all these things in my way. Some days I feel guilty for wanting to make space for my things.
I want to live here. I want to love here. I don't want to be a caretaker of things.
It is time to clean things out.