After my father passed away I began the long and very exhausting process of going through his things and cleaning out his house. At times it was comforting, but overall the process left me overwhelmed with emotion and grief. His old garage, built in 1906, became the repository for many things he should have thrown away, but also things he treasured and didn’t have a place for. Much of it didn’t make sense to me, things I didn’t have the story for. But, some of it I recognized; knickknacks from trips, outdoor activity equipment, and the occasional sentimental but ugly gift. After I threw away the piles of old wood and paint, tossed the piles of newspaper that dated back to the 80s, and sorted through discarded furniture, I was left with stuff that just felt at home. I’m not sure anyone would have thought it should be photographed, but I wanted to remember the random things. At the time I didn’t know what would become of the house, so outside of taking one photo and a belt buckle, I left it all for whomever would be the new owner.
