Published July 27, 2025
Last weekend my brother and I got in my car and took the long drive to my parents' house. Ordinarily I love spending time with my family. We joke and we kibbitz. We reminisce about life in New York. We talk about people we know and have known and things we have done. It's usually a lot of fun. This was not that trip.
My parents are getting on in years and have decided that it's both time to downsize and to move into a facility that will support them in the next phase of their life. So my brother and I got in the car and started driving to help them inventory the things that they have collected over the decades and figure out who gets what.
We spent the days going through the art on the walls and the chachkes on the shelves, putting together a list of what everything is and then marking who wants what, our sister joining in via Zoom since she was unable to come. In the end we made the decisions and my brother and I packed up the things that were coming with us and packed them into my car for the drive back.
The 2 day drive each way was exhausting but the process was mentally and emotionally draining. It was something that was needed and I'm glad we were able to help my parents but it's hard seeing them hit this stage. It's going to be hard knowing that, for the first time in my life, they won't have a place for me to stay if I come visit. I know that this is the right move for them and I am happy they are making it but, for me, it is bittersweet.