cleaning out

I spent last weekend cleaning out the back part of our family room. Dad was a graphic artist and spent several years doing antique art restoration- mainly repainting and repairing church statues, which means that there are a ton of paints and other artist materials that are in the house. Some of it/ was hard to get rid of and some of it I couldn't. I found the mold for the toe section of a foot (that looks like it was made from his foot) that both mom and I could not part with. And all his acrylic paints and artist brushes (which seem to be in good shape) were placed in a desk. I say its in case I decide to take up painting, which likely won't happen, but I used to enjoy that type of thing, so maybe I will, and part of me just hates to get rid of the stuff.

And then there is the stuff that I can easily get rid of, there are many great things I can say about dad, but, he was a pack rat; never threw anything out. So amongst the paint, brushes, and photos (of which I will probably never get rid of any of it), I am also finding magazines from 1994, calendars dating back several years, random pieces of wood and countless pieces of paper. So far I have ended up with five trash bags and 2+ bins of recyclables.

I've been somewhat okay cleaning all this out, probably because there isn't that much emotion one can attach to paints, but I'm dreading the time when mom and i start cleaning out his clothes. At this point, every clothing item I've found has just been tossed into the spare bedroom. I know, at some point, we are going to have to go through all of it. And I am not looking forward to it.