"Stuff" means nothing without the person.

Linda and I went to Dad's room yesterday to clear it of personal material. We're going to donate the fixtures to any thrift that wants to come and get them.

There wasn't a lot of nostalgia in the process -- most of the family stuff was taken care of years ago when we sold the family home and held an estate sale. In fact, in cleaning out Dad's room, I wonder if our family maybe should have retained a few more personal items for Dad.

But he never did much care about his surroundings. He continued to be a hoarder, but of very small things.

So there were some pictures and knickknacks and a few other personal items that we loaded up and took to our storage shed.

I went through Dad's clothes, and he had some classic Pendleton type shirts that fit me, and I took a few. It's funny, but his feet were bigger than mine, and his hands were smaller, and I don't tend to wear hats. I took a nice coat.

Really, there was very little. If I didn't know it already, this would have shown me that possessions basically mean nothing without the person there. The room was just sort of sad and forlorn.

I feel like I notice a sick smell in the rooms -- not that the place isn't kept very clean, but I think it just comes with the territory. Linda says she doesn't smell it, but not only do I smell it but it seems to linger long after I leave. I was O.K. with it when Dad was there, but the sickness smell without him there is just a sickness smell.

We all just have to go with the flow, I guess. Live with what we have and not get too acquisitive -- and above all enjoy the people.