When I was a kid, my grandfather passed away and my parents were left responsible of emptying, cleaning, and selling his home. The house was a massive hoarder-filled home with one entire room literally stacked wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling with old hardcover books. Thousands of records, books, newspapers, magazines throughout the house. Furniture, clothing, just insane amounts of stuff that had been accumulated over 70 years of living there. I spent two years of my childhood driving 3 hours one-way with my family multiple weekends per month to help empty the house out. I was around 8-10 years old at the time, but it wasn't until I was an adult that I realized it was actually traumatizing on some level.
Now, I'm in my late 20s, and my parent's home is exactly like my grandfather's. Room after room full of shit they don't use. My childhood bedroom is an unwalkable storage room. They had a mother-in-law suite (bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, livingroom) built when my grandmother moved in with us; after she passed away, it became full of stuff. We don't go to that side of the house anymore because it isn't really possible to walk through it save for a few steps in the front entrance.
The writing is on the wall that when my parent's pass away, I'll have to deal with that mess. I'll possibly have a kid or two by then. I've told my wife already that I won't do it. I refuse to put my wife or my future kids through the mess that is emptying out a hoarder-filled house of a loved one's possessions. I've said it a thousand times already to my wife, but I won't spend more than 24 hours in that house when they pass away. I will grab a few small keepsakes that have some sentimental value, and then I'll hire a clean-up crew to donate, destroy, or sell the 99.9% of stuff that's remaining. I'll burn or bulldoze the house if I have to.
What I'm saying is, I can relate to a lot of the feelings and ideas expressed in this article.