While I was visiting Mom, we went through two boxes brought over from the last assisted living facility that Dad resided at. In fact, he spent very little time there, as he was mostly confined to the hospital by that point.
Mom was not looking forward to the process, even though we both suspected that many of the items in the boxes would not be Dad’s. We were right. It’s a bit disturbing to handle clothes that belonged to strangers. Who were these people, and what were their stories?
And who ended up with Dad’s clothes and belongings?
We also found two photographs of someone’s grandkids, most likely, their smiling portraits foreign to us.
I did score a couple of Dad’s old jackets, which are precious to me, so it was worth the unsettling experience.