And we’re going to be going through a version of this before long at my parents’ house, Sherry. (My parents now live in an assisted living facility, but my father “goes home” once or thrice a week to “pack things up,” although reports tell us he usually just sits in his chair and looks out the window. Both are getting weaker and my mother now fails to recognize anyone, mistaking my father for me.) Fortunately I got out pretty much everything I cared about a long time ago (or had it shipped to me by my father without asking) but my sister will want me to take the old photos and such, I’m sure (I’m the de facto family historian). Then my sister can sell the place, pay off bills, and we can move from that chapter to retiring and cleaning up our place. <sigh>

Husband & retiree. Developer, tech writer, & IT geek. I fill what’s empty, empty what’s full, and scratch where it itches. Occasionally do weird & goofy things.

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