Children learn by watching their parents.
I only figured this out as an adult, when I started watching my dad in action. He is almost 92.
Specifically, I have watched the way dealt with my mother’s illness and death, selling his big house and downsizing, and taking other countless steps that were necessary but uncomfortable.
He looks fearlessly at the prospect of his own death, and takes the necessary actions. By example, he has shown me the way to grow old. What a gift!
I hope to be as fearless and proactive. I am starting to make tiny decisions that acknowledge my own mortality. How can I make it easier for my family when I die?
One way: get rid of shit. The stuff I have? It’s just stuff, not some priceless fucking heirloom.
I semi-dread the implications of inheriting a bunch of stuff from him. A few things, sure. But how many paintings does a person need? Furniture? Where will I put it?
Having a thing as a remembrance, a totem, has ceased to be important to me. I will remember my parents with or without that circular, hand-carved table. Or any other thing.
For me, I’d like to get as close to naked of possessions as I can. Die owning nothing except the clothes on my body.
Give things to the kids now if they want it. Dump it otherwise. We have three sets of dishes in the kitchen, FFS. Why?