Dead; Don’t Care

I found my sister’s diary seven years after her death. It was in my parents’ storage room.

I felt weird about the encounter, but I really wanted to read the diary. Plus, it’s not like my sister could walk in to bust me.

After my sister died, my parents had to pack up her apartment. I imagine the task felt like climbing a mountain when you really don’t want to climb a mountain.

My dad said the apartment looked like my sister was plucked from her life. Her cat was pacing and needed water. Dishes filled the sink. My mom found birth control under the bed (horrifying for a Catholic parent).

My sister’s unfinished business was everywhere. The whole thing was upsetting. My parents did their best to be respectful.

For years, I’ve wondered: How do you respect a dead person’s privacy while packing their things?

Is looking still considered “snooping”?

Is going through a dead person’s stuff about them and their feelings or about you and your feelings?

I don’t know. Probably a combination. It’s tough to consider everyone’s feelings.

When you have the chance, sometimes the best thing to do is ask.

My opinion: