Swedish Death Cleaning is the idea that you’ll get rid of extra stuff before you die so that those left behind won’t have to worry about your stuff.
Let me just say: do it! Do it now!
My dad, always a bit of a pack rat, died 16 years ago, somewhat suddenly. He and my stepmother lived in a 1500 SF townhouse. My brother and I flew in for the funeral and I remember my stepmother saying “your dad wanted to make sure you got his furniture, and when do you want to get it?” Well, we weren’t exactly going to take it back on the plane, and I specifically remember telling my stepmother “I don’t want to take your kitchen table!” (One of the items—a very old drop leaf table that was in my great grandparents’ farmhouse).
Life has, of course, moved on in 16 years. I haven’t been back in all that time—I was never close with my stepmother (they got married when my dad was 62, I think)—and we’ve drifted further apart to just Christmas cards over the last couple years.
So my stepsister calls me last month to tell me that my stepmother has had a couple of small strokes, is moving into assisted living, they need to sell the house, and do I want my dad’s furniture and “a couple boxes of miscellaneous stuff?”
My immediate response was “no,” but then my brother and I realized that yeah, there were a couple items—a rocking chair, a small table, a couple pieces that came over on the boat 100 years ago from Scotland, a painting—that we might like to have. Initially we were going to go fetch it, but it’s a 2 day drive each way, and with hotels, gas, uhaul rental, hiring labor (we’re all old and our backs aren’t what they were), it was just easier to hire a moving company. Priced out, the cost was for the minimum amount. Fine. We’ll just get it here and sort it out. Cool. Easy, a little pricy, but now I can use my vacation days for something more fun. I also stupidly tell my brother, who is perpetually poor, that I’ll pay for it.
Fast forward to Thursday, when I get a call from a mover who doesn’t speak English and my apologetic stepbrother (my step sister is home with Covid), who inform me that “there’s a lot more stuff” and of course the price of the move is doubled.
“A lot more stuff” apparently includes stuff found in the attic, stuff in an outside storage room, some clothing, golf supplies and most exciting of all—“two or three boxes of floppy disks and VHS tapes.”
So I have a big bill, and even though I saved some vacation days, I’ll have no money to pay for a vacation, my garage is going to be full of stuff for a while, all because my stepmother is a pretty nice lady (really, she is—she had marked everything long ago so her kids wouldn’t mix it up with her stuff) who wanted to make sure we got my dad’s stuff.
The moral of this story: if you’re older, start throwing stuff out or consulting with your kids about what they want and don’t want. If you’re younger, start talking to your parents about this stuff. I keep thinking my stepmother could have had a much nicer life—with more room in the closets!—over the last 16 years if she’d tossed this stuff.
I’m going out now to make room in the garage for the delivery in the next couple days. Anyone need any floppy disks or VHS tapes?