Picking Up the Pieces

My brother and I got together at my house this weekend to attempt to finish going through Dad's stuff.  My father was a pack-rat, probably nearing hoarder (not really), but he kept a lot of things organized, or just stored in boxes in the basement.  He had a ton of knick-knacks and doo-dads displayed everywhere, and his walls were covered with framed art and pictures.  This has been the bulk of what we had left to work through.  It's been a year and a half now and unfortunately, this hasn't felt any easier to go through than it was to begin with. 

Our weekend began on a high note, with us sorting through the myriad of tools my father owned, nothing big, just what would fit in a couple of tool chests.  But my father being who he was, he kept tools that were probably 80+ years old that would have belonged to my grandfather.  We laughed at some of the useless items we ran across from 19-forever ago.  Like a nail biter (?) (removes the nail head) that didn't close all the way.  Old rusty wrenches.  A bunch of small trinkets that I don't even know the use for.  It was humorous, and we both ended up with some useful items that we enjoyed negotiating to get. 

It's been a nice thing that I only have my brother in this picture, as opposed to multiple siblings, because we both have varied interests and desire for different things.  We have only wrestled for a small handful of items over the course of time, but haven't really fought over a single one.  Until last night, when I decided to take up issue with some valuable stuff and got offended hastily instead of discussing my concerns calmly.  My brother didn't know what hit him.  I admit I was a complete jerk, so he was immediately on the defensive, and there we were, duking it out (verbally) over any number of things from the past year and a half we could think to drum up.  It really was probably ridiculous, but we couldn't help but be fueled by emotion because of what we'd spent the last 2 days doing.  Ultimately, I wasn't really arguing because I wanted more stuff, but I sure felt terrible when I realized that I was that person we all baulk at that raises issue over something so insignificant as a few dollars.  In the end, is any amount ever worth the relationship it gets in the middle of?  I really could have handled that better.

Well, I got my point across, and in turn, my brother was so hurt by the exchange that he just wanted to leave my house and throw in the towel on the whole process.  Boy did I feel tiny.  You see, we have been very thankful for and to each other that we haven't had a true fight over any of dad's stuff, that he left without direction for us to deal with.  And after last night, I realized that my brother and I would lay down every last bit of everything just to keep each other, and certainly to have dad back. 

I love my brother to pieces, and I'm incredibly proud of him because he lost his daddy too.  I hate what this loss has done to us individually, but collectively we've stuck together and we will work to keep it that way.  As for the stuff, it just has to be gone through and there's really no way to avoid the hurt we both feel as we comb through essentially what is left of our father.  He left us no opportunity for closure, and we are painfully mindful of that with every picture, every knick-knack, every plate, and every tool that we touch and assign new ownership to.