I finally got under Mum's house today to start clearing away Dad's workshop and 45 years of family life.
I've made two trips to Tiny's Green Shed, the re-use facility at Mugga Way tip, the car dangerously loaded.
Dad's trained as an electrician in the Air Force. He was also a keen gardener and adaptive re-user before it was trendy. It was how he and we grew up. His workshop is full of tools and boxes upon boxes of useful things, or things that might be useful one day. He spent a lot of time fixing things and creating things under the house. Mum can't go in, she keeps seeing him at the bench. I know what she means. He is very present in that place.
It is really hard to dismantle that.
My brother has been slowy removing Dad's tools. As he needs something, he removes it and doesn't return it. My brother, although he lives next door and is currently on leave, is keeping well clear while I deal with the other stuff.
When Dad died, I was the strong one. One of us had to do the organising and holding it together. I didn't do a very good job of holding it together today. I only had to pull off the road twice to howl.
I'm not counting any of the things from under the house as outs. If I stop and think about it long enough to enumerate I will be paralysed.
While this is emotionally horrible, it's necessary. I can also recommend being responsible for getting rid of someone else's shit as an antidote to consumerism.