Do Your Kids Even Want Your Stuff?
**The Question That Set the Internet on Fire**
I honestly didn’t expect to cause a small riot on the internet, but apparently nothing stirs the soul like talking about your stuff. Not the big stuff, not the fancy stuff — the everyday belongings that quietly pile up over the decades.
I asked a simple question:
“Do your kids even want your stuff? And have you cleaned out so they’re not left in a gigantic mess?”
Well.
The comments section erupted like Thanksgiving dinner with a side of generational trauma.
About 90% of people said the same thing:
“Oh yes, I’ve been through this with my parents. I’m not leaving my kids a disaster to deal with. Absolutely not.”
But then came the other camp — loud, confident, and occasionally a little judgmental:
“Let your parents enjoy their things until they die!”
“It’s no problem to clean it out.”
“Wow, you’re going to inherit everything and you’re whining?”
And that’s when I realized…
Most of the people saying that have never cleaned out a house after someone dies.
It’s Not About the Stuff. It’s About the Grief.
Let me tell you something I wish more people understood:
Cleaning out a parent’s belongings isn’t like spring-cleaning your garage.
It’s grief with a garbage bag.
It’s standing in a room full of memories — birthdays, Christmas mornings, the sweater they wore on every vacation — and knowing that, somehow, your job is to put those memories into the trash. Or call a junk dealer. Or haul it all to the curb in the middle of your heartbreak.
There is nothing easy about that.
Nothing.
It’s not greed. It’s not entitlement.
It’s not “ugh, I don’t want to deal with it.”
It’s that the moment you start tossing someone’s things, it hits you like a freight train:
They’re really gone.
You’re not just sorting objects.
You’re sorting a life.
And it is one of the worst, heaviest feelings I’ve ever had. Truly.
So Why Did I Bring This Up?
Because people assume this whole conversation is about money or inheritance or kids wanting designer china. It’s not.
It’s about kindness.
It’s about the emotional labor we leave behind.
And it’s about acknowledging something uncomfortable:
If someone you love passes, you are left with an enormous job at the exact moment you are least emotionally capable of handling it.
That’s the part people forget.
You’re mourning.
You’re exhausted.
Your heart is cracked open.
And on top of that, you’re expected to shovel through decades of sentimental belongings — and decide what lives on and what ends up in a dumpster.
If you’ve done it, you know.
If you haven’t, I hope you never have to find out the hard way.
So What’s the Point?
It’s not to guilt anyone.
Not to boss anyone around.
Not to tell you to throw your grandmother’s furniture in a bonfire.
The point is compassion — in both directions.
If you’re older and thinking about your kids:
You don’t have to live like a minimalist monk.
You don’t have to strip your home bare.
But a little thoughtful editing? It’s a gift.
If you’re younger and your parents have a house full of memories:
Don’t judge.
Don’t assume it’ll be “no big deal.”
Understand that “the stuff” becomes unbelievably heavy when grief is sitting on your chest.
Where Do You Stand?
This is one of those topics where no one is totally right or totally wrong — it’s just deeply personal.
But it is worth talking about.
Have you been through it?
Are you cleaning out your own things now?
Do you want your parents to start downsizing, or do you want them to enjoy every mug, book and broken lamp until the end of time?
Tell me where you fall in this conversation.
I’m genuinely curious — and clearly, so is everyone else.
Grab my free ebook, A Resource Guide for Decluttering and Downsizing Your Stuff here