I set an empty jar on the counter, step one in its removal. Step two: plop into a box in the garage. Three: place filled box in car for trip to glass-only dumpster in the grocery store parking lot. That should be the end of it, but we've switched grocery stores, which means a detour to the old one after shopping. That leads to step four: discover box in back seat after returning home. Five: repeat.
I want to leave behind an empty house, pristine as the day I moved in. It's an ongoing task that I probably won't complete. So here's advice for my loved ones, who'll be left to sort the detritus that represented my life: simplify. Recycle what's usable. Incinerate what remains––including your memory of me.
What will you leave behind?
Read another post about closure.