Editor’s Note: This is a guest post from John P. Weiss.
When I was thirteen years old, my father suffered a heart attack in front of me and my mother. We were in the living room watching television and he said he didn’t feel well.
Emergency responders were called, followed by several intense hours at the hospital. Thankfully, Dad recovered, but not my boyhood sense of immortality. Life, I quickly learned, can change in an instant.
Fast forward 27 years and I’m holding my father’s hand in a dementia care facility. He is unconscious. The hospice nurse tells me that hearing is often the last sense to go. So I tell my father that I love him. That everyone in our family is fine. That if he’s tired, to rest.
He slipped away peacefully an hour later.
I made all the arrangements for my mother. We held a small memorial for family and friends. We reminisced, laughed, cried, and said our goodbyes.
The next day I drove to my parent’s house. My mother wanted to downsize her home and move closer to me, my wife, and son.
Dad was a packrat. The garage was filled to the gills, and the rest of the house was equally loaded with a lifetime of possessions. If Dad had met Marie Kondo, he’d have told her that all his stuff brings him joy.
Unfortunately, most of Dad’s stuff didn’t bring me joy. It took weeks of hard work to simplify, declutter, and unload everything. I found a consignment business that took most of the large furniture pieces. I gave away many of Dad’s tools and garage items. There were countless trips to the Goodwill and the local dump.
At the time, I was unfamiliar with minimalism, but the experience left a big impression. I knew I wanted a simpler, less cluttered life.
Don’t leave this burden to them
Margareta Magnusson published a slender book in 2018 titled “The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning.” Magnusson’s first encounter with
It’s an enormous task to declutter and organize after the death of a parent or loved one. As Magnusson points out, young families today lead busy lives. She notes:
“Do not ever imagine that anyone will wish—or be able—to schedule time off to take care of what you didn’t bother to take care of yourself. No matter how much they love you, don’t leave this burden to them.”
Swedish death cleaning, Magnusson points out, is as much (or more) for you as for the people who come after. Doing so gives you the chance to find meaning and memory in your things. You’ll also feel a sense of lightness and peace.
If you don’t remember why a possession has meaning or why you kept it, it will be easier to part with. Sentimental items, letters, and photographs are often the hardest to deal with. Fortunately, they can be organized into albums or digitized.
The old barber shop
I went through hundreds of old photos after my father died. I tossed duplicates and pictures of people unfamiliar to my mother and I. The rest were reduced down to one small box, which we plan to digitize into a computer file. It can then be used with a digital photo frame, to enjoy all the pictures as they cycle through.
One of the photos I found in my Dad’s stuff was of the old, vintage barber shop in town where he got his hair cut. Dad used to take me there when I was a kid.
Dad’s barber was named Pat. He was a slender, short man and his small shop was always neat and tidy. Opening the door to his shop, you’d hear the dangling bell as it clanked against the glass.
Inside, there were three of those old barber chairs. You know, the ones with puffy seats, armrests, and those big, metal foot pedals.
Pat had combs suspended in jars filled with mystery blue liquid. There were various electric clippers, hot towels, a small TV (with the game on), and various sports magazines strewn about the waiting area.
After a haircut, Pat would liberally powder your face with a big, soft brush. Then, for the kids, he’d hand out Bazooka Joe bubble gum.
I thought Pat’s barber shop was cool, but I wasn’t old enough to appreciate what my Dad admired most about Pat.
The capacity to enjoy less
Dad once told me that Pat was the most down to earth, authentic, wise, well-adjusted man he knew. Pat loved people and conversation, and his work was the perfect forum for both.
My father was an administrative law judge, and his work was complicated and stressful. In fact, it’s what led to my Dad’s heart attack. Several other judges that Dad worked with suffered heart attacks as well.
Dad admired Pat because he led a simple, uncomplicated life. Even Pat’s home (where my father visited him once to help on a legal matter) was a small, neat, tidy house.
According to my Dad, Pat was far happier than most of the men Dad worked with. Pat had crafted a simple, uncomplicated life.
Despite Dad’s tendency to hoard stuff, he knew simplicity was a virtue. He once told me, “Do we own our things, or do our things own us?”
Perhaps Socrates, who my father admired, said it best:
“The secret of happiness, you see, is not found in seeking more, but in developing the capacity to enjoy less.”
Roses in our winter
What Swedish death cleaning taught me about life is that relationships and experiences are what matter, not the stuff we fill our homes and lives with.
Yes, some possessions enrich our lives, but the sweetest memories come from experiences with loved ones and friends.
As we approach the twilight of our lives, memories become important companions. As the author George Will once wrote:
“Memories are roses in our winter.”
Don’t wait until you are old and tired to simplify your life. Swedish death cleaning is not consigned to the elderly.
We can declutter and embrace minimalism at any age. Doing so will unburden you, allow more time for loved ones, and create an abundance of memories to cherish for a lifetime.
***
John P. Weiss is a fine artist, writer, and retired police chief. He blogs at JohnPWeiss.com about living a more artful life.
Chris says
This very topic started my journey to minimalism ten years ago. Death cleaning after the last parent died in 2015 fortified my resolve to never put my children through this process. I am still decluttering but there is significantly less every year to clean out leaving me more time to do what I want and enjoy and less time cleaning and maintaining what is not needed in my life. Also, I like having the decision regarding what happens to my possessions while I am alive as opposed to a family member trying to decide what to do with stuff that has no history or meaning to them, so possessions are then chucked into a dumpster. I find each day peaceful, life centered and more joyful than I ever imagined, all due to having less “stuff” to burden me. Keeping things simple and minimal has made a huge impact in the quality of my life and relationships.
Patty says
Wow! What a great article! My siblings and I are sorting through 50+ years of things in my parents’ home. It’s very time consuming. My dad was like John Weiss’ dad…he too would have told Marie Kondo that all his belongings gave him joy. I hope that I can minimize my belongings so my children will not have to spend countless hours sorting through “stuff” after I am gone.
LaVerne says
This is hitting home and I’ve been following Joshua Becker for many, many years. I’ve been minimizing that whole time, I’ve eliminated a lot of ‘stuff” but it seems there is always more to do.
My husband passed away 2 years ago and last summer I finally worked up the courage to venture into his workshop. To say he was a pack rat is an understatement and I’m not even through it all.
After reading this article, I have new determination to take care of this so my kids don’t have to. And when I downsize I would have to do it all anyway. So I’m starting now.
Tony W says
Death cleaning can leave you questioning the direction your life is heading. I wondered if I was paying attention to what was really important.
John P. Weiss says
Good point, Tony. As we downsize, we can confront questions and feelings about where we’ve been, and where we’re headed. For me, the lighter load made it easier to focus on family, friends and passions over endless stuff.
Becky says
This is so true. I did it when my Parents had to be moved to Assisted Living. Very time consuming and draining, especially when my father, basically blind kept pulling things from the dumpster that we were removing.
John P. Weiss says
Becky- My mother developed Parkinson’s disease and had to downsize to an assisted living community. She went from a big house full of stuff down to a studio apartment with one closet and one dresser. And you know what, she’s much happier now. “I don’t know why I had all that stuff,” she told me.
Phyllis says
Thank you for this which is an excellent overview of why we need to be proactive about down-sizing and de-cluttering as we age. I worked for 27 years in home health and end-of-life care and have seen many families devastated, both by sudden illness and terminal illness; and then the reality of dealing with so many possessions, etc. Although I hadn’t heard of “death cleaning”, perhaps it’s my Swedish heritage that inspired me to de-clutter a year and a half ago. It took 3 1/2 months to go through all our “stuff”. We held a huge garage sale and donated the rest and have so appreciated living more simply. Since that time we’ve been inspired again and our next step is selling our 1918 sq ft home on .8 acres on a gorgeous wooded lot to move into a 1140 sq ft cottage that is being built as part of a new retirement community. We’ll no longer be “home owners” but we are grateful that all inside and outside maintenance will be done for us and we look forward to living our senior years with more freedom and time to exercise, volunteer, and see what God has in store for us in the time we are here on this earth. Yes, we love our home and will definitely miss some elements of it but we both agree this is the right thing to do and the right timing as well; we are definitely at peace with this decision. By the way, our kids couldn’t be more thrilled and happy for us. Yes, they will have much less stuff to go through and get rid of someday, but they also realize this new adventure will be a good choice for us all around.
M. says
I hear you…9 solid, non-stop months of cleaning out my father’s entire life after he passed suddenly and unexpectedly. What was astonishing is what was left that was my mother’s! Very little. She downsized and is far happier. It also changed the lens of how I saw my own belongings. While I do toss out/donate/repurpose things regularly, I was even more thorough. That herculean task should fall to no one else.
Debra says
My husband of 46 yrs passed away in February. Thankfully he was not much of a ‘saver’ I, on the other hand, save practically everything! Now, I have to deal with my own ‘stuff’, as I need to start drastically minimize in order to sell our home & buy a smaller one. It’s a huge job and I also have to do it while returning to work! You’re blog really hit home for me today! Never again! My new home will be a picture of becoming a minimalist. I don’t want my niece & sister to have to deal with my stuff when I am gone!
John P. Weiss says
Debra- Condolences over the loss of your husband, and best of luck uncluttering! Check out Joshua’s book “The Minimalist Home.” I wish I had it before I moved!
John says
Been there, done that. We were not going to put our kids through it. 2 years ago we had a massive downsizing/ decluttering / Craig’s Listing / giveawaying clean-out. Took a few months and some attachment anxiety, but we are happily settled into our 1300 sqft condo, from a 2500 sqft house. Gone are all those things that haven’t seen daylight or moved in years.
John P. Weiss says
John- My wife, son and I relocated from California to Nevada in 2017. I thought I was fairly organized until it was time to move. After selling stuff, Goodwill trips and visits to the dump, I was amazed how much we unloaded. It felt good to lighten our load!
Mari R says
Dear John, I have a similar experience.
Twenty years ago I reduced my possessions to a dozen boxes which came with me to the U.S.
Over the years the majority of the contents of boxes have turned out unnecessary, even if I carefully chose the most important things at that time!
Lorraine says
Your so right… my husband passed in Dec. and I am death cleaning. It’s a process…but a healthy one. I may have to read up on how the Swedish do it.
Laura Ann says
I woke up to minimalism gradually, started when father in law died, both had packed away stuff that mostly got tossed or donated from sixty two years of marriage that began during the peak of the great depression. Then as close friends passed later, I realized d-cluttering and organizing needs to be ongoing like cleaning your house, and made it a habit. Things not useful gotto go, outdated electronic items incl. A place for everything also to prevent buying duplicates.
Lisa Schall says
I can’t agree with you more as a retired judge I dealt with so many cases in probate Where the failure to D clutter and have an estate plan left to squabbling and discontent with the remaining family members. I strongly recommend share your treasures you have with younger members of the family who might appreciate it even if your own children don’t tell the stories behind them so that those stories are passed on and by all means please have a will or trust don’t leave things to chance it leads to so much of this harmony great article. Judge Lisa S
A B says
Lisa,
After reading about the judges in this piece all I can say is take care of your health.
Best regards,
A