I've always had trouble listening to this sad song, and now especially so. Frank and I have spent the last several months emptying out my mother's house now that she's in a nursing home. All the tools my father left there 10 years ago when he died had to finally be moved, every single little scrap and all the accumulation of their lives had to be sorted and moved, given away, sold or stored. Dishes for 25th, 40th, 50th anniversaries. Old photo albums, housewares, linens, furniture, books, clothes, souvenirs. All the "stuff" we hang onto is often meaningless in the end except as vehicles for memories of people we've known and loved.

I look forward to this space being brought to life again someday with new people in their own way with their own stuff.