All the Stuff

Dad was a saver.  We referred to him as a hoarder.  He owned a five bedroom house and kept every room filled with furniture, clothing, appliances, items purchased in bulk, and other assorted items from his life of sixty-nine years.  He was single.  That's a lot of square footage of stuff.

Perhaps a better word to describe Dad was rescuer.  He was a Rescuer of All the Stuff rejected by someone for No Good Reason.

He pointed to a stool that he picked up from the side of the road.  Someone's garbage.  "Tiff, can you believe someone was getting rid of this stool?" he asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, dad, I can.  The wicker seat has a huge hole in it."

"Aw, I can fix that!"

And sometimes he would.  That stool sat in his kitchen, with a bamboo placemat screwed down on the seat, covering the hole.  Completely functional.  Kind of trashy looking, if you asked me.  But functional.

"Perfectly good stool!"  he'd proclaim proudly.

Other stuff, he'd take in with good intentions of fixing...but never would get around to it.  Lots of that stuff taking up space in the 3,920 square feet of his house.

Int addition to Rescuing, Dad was a lover of The Good Deal.  Buy-one-get-one?  Yes, please.  Reduced for quick sale?  He's all over it.  Going through Dad's house, we'd find two of things you typically don't need two of.  Two crockpots?  Yes, because why are you going to pass up The Good Deal?  Don't have a use for two identical crockpots?  Irrelevant!  It's a Good Deal!

Nearly every can of food had a "Reduced for quick sale" sticker on it.  Nearly all of it was expired.

Hoarder might not be the correct word for Dad, because he didn't necessarily want to keep All the Stuff that he Rescued or acquired through The Good Deal.  He just wanted to know that it would have a good home.  He was more than happy to get the Good Deal and give the second item away.  He loved rescuing something that was going to be otherwise thrown away, only to give it to someone who would give it a good home.

So when Dad dies, we're left with All the Stuff.  All the Stuff that he bought, saved, and rescued.  All the Stuff that he didn't manage to give away, but he couldn't bring himself to throw out.  

Unfortunately, a lot of the Stuff was thrown away.  We filled over three large construction-size trucks with broken furniture, old tires, expired food, and many, many other items that I can't even remember.

He would have been heartbroken to see how much of his Stuff we threw out.

We held an estate sale, in which much of his furniture, dishes, TVs (he had 5 or 6 at least), appliances, and other items of value were sold.  That would have pleased him...though the 33% cut that the estate sale planner took would have horrified him.

You did NOT get The Good Deal!

Of course, we chose to keep some of his belongings, but living 1,500 miles away meant we would have to be very particular about what we chose to keep.  We kept the sentimental stuff (I found my childhood Christmas stocking) and also some framed paintings and his golf clubs.  Special Stuff.

Now, those things are the only tangible things I have left of my dad.  I wish I could have kept more, but we spent over $500 as it was with the things we had shipped home.

We kept his cell phone, and if you know my dad, you'll know why that's a particularly special item.  He hated cell phones.  If you asked why, he'd treat you to his rant about how Cell Phones are Responsible for the Downfall of our Civilization.  But after many years, he finally broke down and got one.

Because he got a Good Deal, that's why.  He still hated cell phones, though.

So we kept his cell phone.  It's a nice one, actually.  He did get a Good Deal.

And Willie's son just so happens to need a replacement cell phone.  There is an obvious solution here if you've been paying attention.  Dad would love nothing more than to know that we were able to avoid buying a new phone for Anthony when we already have a "perfectly good one" in our possession.  He would be upset if we didn't give it to Anthony!

I know it solves the problem.  I know it's what Dad would want.  But to me, watching every little item of Dad's disappear, either on the garbage truck, through the estate sale, or gifting to someone who would appreciate it makes me feel like pieces of my Dad are scattering away like a handful of sand on the beach.