On a routine call to my Gram during a routine review of her daily activities she informed me she was shredding papers and tidying up a bit.
"Are you getting ready to move closer to mom?" I asked.
"No, I'm getting ready to die." She said.
We both had a good laugh. Unexpected statements are funny especially when they aren't intended to be funny. She further explained how she didn't want her kids to have to work too hard cleaning out her house when she finally left this good earth.
I get it.
Her statement kept me up a few extra minutes that night. The next morning as I walked down to the basement to move laundry I stubbed my pinky toe on a pile of furniture.
That's when it hit me.
Why am I holding onto all this? It has no sentimental value, no true functionality in our home. It's just sitting there in perfectly useable (for someone else) condition collecting basement dust. And if we EVER have another winter like last winter, that basement is going to come in handy.
That day I made a list because I am a list person. I made a list of all the things I needed to organize upstairs and all the things I wanted to sell or donate downstairs. And I've been checking things off that list rapidly.
Unlike my Gram, it's not really about preparing for death. It's about preparing for a really happy simple little life.
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