What Shocking Things Did You Find While Clearing a Deceased Family Member’s Room?

What Shocking Things Did You Find While Clearing a Deceased Family Member’s Room?

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
What shocking things did you find while clearing a deceased
family member's room? Story one. My grandma's house had money everywhere.
Every purse had at least one hundred dollars in cash,
suitcases had a few hundred more. Every coffee can or
other container in her kitchen had rolls of money. There
were even bags of frozen vegetables in the freezer that

(00:20):
had been split open with money hidden inside, and her
bank accounts held thousands upon thousands of dollars. No one
had any idea she lived so simply and never spent
on anything unnecessary. I'm sure her caution with money came
from growing up during the Great Depression. It made for
the most surprising scavenger hunt ever. Story two. My dad's

(00:44):
grandmother was a huge hoarder. When she passed away, he
had to clear out her house, which was no easy task.
My dad always tells us how you couldn't even see
the walls because of the amount of things she had,
and how she looked so small walking through the narrow
pathways she had made between the p of objects. After
several days of clearing, my dad finally reached her bedroom.

(01:05):
It was completely filled with all sorts of items, from
around twenty different types of brooms to several harps she
had bought during long trips to Europe. He found many
surprising things, but the one that shocked him the most
was a letter. He discovered it in her bedside table,
sealed with wax, with the words on the envelope to
be opened by my daughter only after my death. My

(01:26):
dad called his mom immediately, since she was her only daughter.
With her permission, he opened the envelope and found a
letter and a birth certificate. In the letter, his grandmother
explained that she had never been able to have children,
and both she and her husband felt deeply saddened by it.
They were devoted Catholics living in early twentieth century Mexico.
She had always wanted a child, so they decided to

(01:49):
take a long trip through Europe, from which they returned
with a baby. My dad's mom. She had always looked
a little different from her family, with very fair skin
and the bluest eyes you could imagine. They found her
in a nune run orphanage in the north of France
and immediately fell in love. Adoption was a big taboo then,
so they told everyone she had become pregnant on their

(02:10):
trip and given birth in Europe. They brought her back
to Mexico and registered her as a newborn, even though
she was already several years old. My grandmother lived her
whole life believing she was her parents' biological child. At
age forty five, through this letter, she found out she
had been adopted, that she was older than she thought,
and that she was actually French, not Mexican. My dad

(02:33):
had to tell her all this over the phone while
trying to understand a French birth certificate. She eventually hired
a private investigator and found her family in France, but
that's another story. Edit. After several years trying to process
what had happened, my grandma decided to search for her
family to also help with claiming French citizenship. The detective
found her biological mother and other relatives. After exchanging letters,

(02:57):
it became clear her mother had no interest in meeting her,
but surprisingly her aunt did without ever having met before.
The aunt traveled to Mexico and stayed for a few weeks.
Through her my grandma learned her mother's story. She had
become pregnant at sixteen out of wedlock, which was unacceptable
at the time, especially in a small town. Her parents

(03:18):
forced her to give the baby to the orphanage. This
is likely why she didn't want to meet after so
many years. My grandma's aunt stayed in contact for life,
and my dad even stayed with her in Paris to
learn French. Eventually, the adoption story spread in the family,
with many admitting they had suspected something because of her
striking blue eyes. Now my grandma tells the story lightly

(03:39):
and is even happy to celebrate two birthdays instead of one.
Story three. When my mother passed away, I was one
of the people tasked with packing up our house. She
had been dealing with a difficult ex husband who would
often come around uninvited. My mother knew, but she hadn't
told anyone else. While we were taking things down, like pictures,

(03:59):
we began finding items hidden behind them, things like check
books for secret bank accounts, or even more unsettling notebooks
full of dates and accounts of times when he had
confronted her. She had a restraining order against him. These
entries described incidents like damage to her car, being followed,
and being approached during her daily routine. She had kept

(04:20):
all of this from the family. What hurts most is
thinking that if she had told everyone what was happening,
things might have turned out differently. Story for My grandmother
passed away after a blood clot. She had several health
conditions that no doubt contributed to this. For example, her
doctors had decided not to treat her breast cancer, believing

(04:41):
it wouldn't progress before other health issues took her. My father, uncle,
and sisters were left to clean out her apartment. We
found a lot of expired food like ketchup that had
turned completely black. We also found things from when she
was well and social, such as her quilting projects and
handmade soaps, which were beautiful. One quilt had all our

(05:01):
family members names sewn in their own handwriting styles. One day,
it was just my dad and me going through her
bedside table, we found her journal. Toward the end. The
entries were all about how lonely she was, how she
only saw her grandchildren twice a year, and how her
own children rarely visited unless they needed something. She wrote
that she no longer wanted to go on. My dad

(05:22):
quietly threw it away so his brother would never have
to read it. Story five. When my grandmother passed, I
helped clean up her things. I found a note from
when she was with her second husband, who had died
in nineteen ninety five, that she had never given him.
She had poured her heart out, saying she couldn't be
with him anymore, that she knew the timing was difficult
because he was unwell, but she was just emotionally exhausted.

(05:46):
She must have changed her mind later, but it was
hard to read something caring so much of her pain
and to realize she had been so unhappy during his
last year edit for context. I believe this was a
letter she wrote to cope with the stress of caring
for someone sick who had become more irritable than usual.
From what I've heard, he didn't handle pain well, but

(06:06):
she never spoke ill of him. Later in life, she
loved him, though their relationship was more companionate than romantic.
Her true love had been my grandfather, who passed in
the late nineteen seventies. She was always warm and fairly
happy when speaking of her second husband later on. I
think the letter was her way of venting privately, avoiding
saying hurtful things in the moment. It was surprising because

(06:29):
she always spoke well of him and no one in
the family expected to find it. It didn't change how
we saw her, but it was still hard to read.
Story six. After my dad passed away from alcohol related illness,
I went into his place, expecting to prepare for the smell,
but not for what I actually saw. I thought the
people who removed his body would at least clean up

(06:49):
a little or warn us to call someone ahead of time,
but they didn't. I went in first to open the
doors and windows, ready for the odor, but I wasn't
ready for the signs that he had fallen, and while
trying to get to his cell phone, which was just
two feet away from him. On a lighter note, my
dad had boxes filled with photos of my sister and me,
along with items from his childhood. He never kept many possessions,

(07:12):
just a few outfits and coffee mugs, so finding all
those boxes of things I'd never seen before was unexpectedly heartwarming.
I had thought he might have gotten rid of them
long ago. I always knew he loved us, but he
wasn't an openly sentimental person, so it really took me
by surprise. Story seven. My best friend was killed in
a car accident when he was fifteen. I was like

(07:34):
another son to his parents, and a few weeks after
his passing, his mother asked me to come over to
help go through his belongings. We often shared clothes, so
half of his closet was mine, including the shirt he
had been wearing that day. When we entered his room,
his mom handed me a duffel bag and told me
I had ten minutes to remove anything I didn't want
her to see. I shut the door, gathered some things

(07:57):
I had left there, and then we went through his
book longings together, me taking back my clothes and her
giving me his clothes that she knew I wore often.
After a while, I decided to play some music. I
turned on his stereo, pressed play, and Journeys faithfully began.
But after a few seconds over the song came my
friend's voice, leaving a sweet, somewhat awkward message for a

(08:19):
girl he had liked since eighth grade. I couldn't help
but laugh. It was just so him. Once I started laughing,
his mom began laughing and crying at the same time.
She later told me it was the first time she
had laughed since the accident, and that it was a
turning point for her in her grief. For me, It
was just my best friend being goofy about a crush.
Even after thirty one years, I still think about him

(08:42):
almost every day. Story eight, When my grandma passed, my
husband and I cleaned out her house. She was a
big time hoarder, but in a very organized way, everything
neatly packed away in countless boxes and drawers. It took
nearly three weeks to clear everything out, and along the
way I learned so much about her life that I'd
never known. She had built a boat with her first

(09:03):
fiance before marrying my grandpa, and she had traveled the
world making friends with fascinating people, including a genuine member
of African Royalty, with whom she had a long term
pen pal friendship. Among the things we found were beautiful
pieces of jewelry and dresses she had saved as gifts
for us, which we had never received. I also discovered

(09:24):
that my dad had been a baby model for Sears,
something revealed in newspaper clippings she kept. It was an emotional,
surprising journey. In the end, her son sold most of
the non keepsake items in a garage sale, making nearly
four thousand dollars, with everything priced under five dollars, which
gives you an idea of how much she had accumulated.
She was the coolest, most spirited grandma, and I miss

(09:47):
her every day. I'm grateful I got to learn so
much more about her through her collections, though my dad
might still call it junk story nine. My great uncle
was a truly kind man. He and my great aunt
had a couple of horses, and every morning he would
open the window and call to them in his own
horse language, and they would answer back. They lived in Casper, Wyoming,

(10:09):
back in the nineteen fifties. He worked in the oil
fields and would come home covered in oil every day.
He loved people deeply. When the space station mirror was
about to re enter the atmosphere for the last time,
he invited the whole neighborhood to watch it together. He
kept a small Christmas tree in his living room year round,
decorated with pictures of friends he was praying for. If

(10:30):
you met him, you wouldn't leave without him giving you
a Susan b anthony quarter and a buckeye, reminding you
to be strong but always say your prayers. When I
was about eight, he showed my sister and me something
that fascinated us his collection of authentic Chinese furniture. He
explained that these pieces often had hidden compartments for storing
valuables or important documents. Finding those secret compartments became one

(10:54):
of my favorite childhood puzzles. I didn't know at the time,
but my dad later told me. My uncle had been
very sick. Years of working in the oil fields had
caused serious illness in his lungs, and he was in
constant pain, though he never stopped showing kindness to others.
A couple of years later, he passed away. After the funeral,
I rushed into his bedroom to find one last secret compartment,

(11:17):
and I did. Inside was five thousand dollars in twenty
dollars bills in a letter. In it, my uncle explained
that he had grown too tired from the pain and
had chosen to end his suffering. He described how he
had traveled to Mexico with my great aunt years earlier
to obtain what he needed and had quietly made his choice.
I don't think he told my great aunt. Learning this

(11:39):
shaped how I think about end of life decisions. I
believe in God, and I believe my uncle was welcomed
into peace. He was a man deserving of rest, and
I share this because his life and his kindness deserved
to be remembered. Start ten. In two thousand and five,
my sister passed away in a jet skiing accident on

(12:00):
the lake. She was eleven. I was nine, and after
the funeral, my parents decided it was time to go
through her things to pack them up and donate. I
was allowed to help, mostly acting as a runner bringing
items to the living room while my parents sorted through
everything in her room. The last thing she had said
to me was I hate you. We had fought just

(12:21):
before she got on the jet ski with my aunt,
and that was the last time we spoke. While going
through her belongings, I found a picture she had drawn
of me, her and one of our other sisters, along
with a little note expressing how much she loved her
brothers and sisters. It was an art project for school.
I think that discovery helped put my mind at ease.
I knew she truly loved me, and that if she

(12:44):
had known those would be her last words to me,
she would never have said them. Being nine years old,
watching her in the hospital for three days, then waiting
four more days for the funeral before finding that picture.
It was the hardest thing I had ever been through,
but that picture helped me heal. Since then, I never
leave anyone on bad terms after an argument, not knowing

(13:06):
if those might be the last words they hear from me.
I can't, in good conscience walk away without making things right.
Story eleven. When my grandpa passed away, we found a
lot of things no one knew existed. Some were just
photos of him during his time as a Navy captain
in World War II posing with women in the Pacific Islands.
That was surprising, but not shocking. Then there was an

(13:29):
extensive collection of Beta Max tapes, at least twenty of them.
My grandma, in disbelief, said, I always wondered why he
kept that Beta Max. We only owned one movie. But
the most unexpected find was the deed to a house
no one in the family knew about. When my parents
went to see the house, they found a woman living there,
someone we had never met, who said she had been

(13:51):
living there thanks to Grandpa's kindness. We later discovered that
he had been paying the mortgage and depositing about five
thousand dollars a month to her bank account. She turned
out to be his partner less than half his age.
He was in his late seventies and she was thirty two.
She had no idea he was married or had a family.
She believed she was simply keeping a wealthy older man company.

(14:14):
When he passed, she lost both her home and her
income on the same day. It was heartbreaking for her,
but the family's anger was aimed at him for betraying
my grandmother and the rest of us. Harsh words were
said to her in the heat of the moment, something
I regret even now. I wanted to like my grandpa.
After his obituary was published, we received over two hundred

(14:36):
letters from veterans saying he had saved their lives in
the war. To them, he was a hero. I wish
he had been a hero to me too. Story twelve.
When my grandmother's mother passed away, my grandma didn't get
to help clear out her parents' home. She and my
grandpa had moved several states away, and she couldn't afford
the trip back for the funeral. She only visited months later,

(14:57):
by which time her siblings had already gone through everything.
She had made a list of items she wanted to keep.
Her mother's crochet projects, some dishware antiques in small keepsakes,
but by the time she arrived they had either been
taken or sold. She managed to get a few pieces
of silverware from her brother in a vas or two
from a sister, but that was all. That is until

(15:19):
she visited another sister's house and saw that she had
their mother's flower bowl, a wooden bowl hand carved by
their father, used daily to make biscuits and other baked goods.
Her sister, who never baked, planned to use it as
a planter. After what must have been a tense discussion,
my grandma walked away with the flower bowl and took
it home. She has used it for baking ever since,

(15:42):
just as her mother had. She has already promised it
to me one day, and I know I'll treasure it
as much as she has. Story thirteen. When I was
twenty six, my friend was diagnosed with cancer. He went
through chemotherapy, but it wasn't working, so he had to
move back in with his parents. About a month after
moving in, I stopped by to check on him. While

(16:03):
I was there, he asked me if I could go
to his house and bring him his computer. He told
me call me before you go inside. There's something I
need you to do. A few days later, I went
to pick up the computer and called his parents' house,
but they said he was sleeping. I wondered what he
wanted me to do, and for some reason, I knew
it was to remove something personal from his house. After

(16:24):
loading his computer into my car, I searched for the
stash I thought he might be referring to it. Took
a while, but I found it and removed it. Later
that day, I dropped off the computer at his parents'
house and they told me he was still asleep and
would call me later. When he called, I told him
what I had done, and he confirmed that's exactly what

(16:44):
he had wanted. About a month later, he passed away.
I was heartbroken, but I felt honored that he trusted
me to take care of something so personal for him,
so his parents wouldn't have to be the ones to
find it. Story fourteen. My grandfather served in the NAME
during World War Two, stationed in the Pacific. After both
he and my grandmother passed away, we began the big

(17:06):
task of cleaning out their small ranch house where my
dad and uncle had grown up. My grandmother, a child
of the great depression, never threw anything away. Her house
was always tidy, but hidden away. We found boxes of
metal hair curlers in the bathroom ceiling, home, canned peaches
from nineteen seventy six in a secret cupboard, and cash

(17:27):
tucked into the pages of books. She had carefully preserved
the things my grandpa brought back from his service. However,
under their bed we found a shoe box with do
not open written on the lid. Naturally we opened it.
Inside were photo booth pictures of my grandfather with a
very pretty young woman. My grandmother had written angry words
on them, and in some had colored over the woman's face.

(17:50):
I don't know why he brought those pictures home, or
why she kept them under their bed, maybe for future arguments.
It could have been upsetting, but honestly, it wasn't a shock.
He had always been something of a ladies man, and
she was fiery enough to keep him in check. They
were married for sixty five years before she passed away,
and he was never the same afterward. Even though it

(18:11):
was a bit scandalous, it was fascinating to see them
as young, passionate, and imperfect. I miss them both all
the time. Story fifteen. I work in a retirement community.
When someone passes away with no family, a company comes
in about a week later and clears everything out, throwing
it all away. Since I have a master key, I

(18:32):
sometimes go into these units beforehand to rescue meaningful items.
I'm not a collector, and I'm not looting. Everything I
take gets donated to local charities, the residence, church, or
the historical society. Over time, I've found some interesting things
coin and stamp collections, old medications, personal items, military records,

(18:54):
including some from World War II Germany, and even antique weapons.
Elderly people often have lived lives far more adventurous than
we realize. The first time I read a diary, though,
was heartbreaking, and I've never done it again. I hadn't
formed close bonds with most residents, but Mary was different.
She always found time to chat, tell jokes, and offer

(19:16):
me a drink when I came by to fix something.
She was full of life and warmth. After she passed,
I found her diaries, a dozen volumes covering her life
from her twenties until the day before she died. She
had included photographs of herself throughout the years, and her
writing was powerful and emotional. In her early years, she
wrote with hope about finding her soulmate, sharing poetry, reflections,

(19:40):
and personal experiences. By her early fifties, she had given
up on that dream, and her writing became sparse and subdued.
But in the last two years of her life, her
words came alive again. She wrote passionately about a much
younger man who had reignited something in her, someone she
described as attractive, kind, and quietly confident. She never named him,

(20:05):
but I realized the timing matched when I began working there.
I don't know how to feel about it. Flattered, sad,
and a bit lost. Mary was an extraordinary person, but
I only came to understand that after she was gone.
I'm grateful I could brighten her final years, but part
of me wishes I had known sooner. Story sixteen. I

(20:26):
became friends with an older gentleman who had no family
or friends. He moved to our area, and one Sunday
after church I started a conversation with him. We stayed
in touch for about three years. I would take him
to doctor's appointments, and I think he enjoyed having someone
around to keep an eye on him. He became very
ill with pneumonia, and since I was the only person

(20:46):
in his phone, the hospital called me to let me
know he was in a bad state. Being there with
him in his final moments was an incredible and humbling experience,
and I was glad he wasn't alone. Afterwards, since I
was his only contact, his solicitor asked if I would
clean out his apartment. While sorting through his things, I
found his will and some documents. He wasn't a wealthy man,

(21:08):
but he had some rare coins, around fifty thousand dollars
in a bank account and over three hundred thousand dollars
in shares. His will stated that it was to be
divided among certain charities. However, in his diary I found
that he had planned to meet with his solicitor the
following week to change his will and make me the
sole beneficiary. I simply chose not to dwell on it

(21:30):
and moved on, eventually finding an old box of photos,
some showing him dressed in a way that surprised me
given his very devout public PERSONA Story seventeen. My wife
was never much of a gift giver. It stemmed from
the way she was raised. Her parents constantly worried about money,
which made her and her siblings very cautious about spending.

(21:51):
You didn't buy anything that wasn't a necessity. Early in
our marriage, I tried giving her flowers, candy, jewelry, and perfume.
She would return what she could and get upset about
what she couldn't. She saw it as a waste. Over
the years, I received fewer than ten gifts from her
for Christmas, birthdays, in Father's Day, and never anything for

(22:13):
Valentine's Day. Eventually, I learned to give her practical gifts
like appliances or clothing she could use, which she genuinely appreciated.
She tried to overcome her difficulty with spending, but for
the first two decades of our twenty nine year marriage,
I worked construction and earned very little, which didn't help.
About twenty years in I went back to college, earned

(22:37):
a degree in medicine, and started making a much better income.
She began to accept and even enjoy flowers and cards
for special occasions, though she still rarely bought me gifts.
She passed away from breast cancer nine years ago. While
going through her belongings, I found two things that touched
me deeply. Behind a drawer in her jewelry box was

(22:57):
a one hundred dollars bill, odd that she had misplaced it,
but perhaps not so odd given her relationship with money.
The other was a romantic Valentine's Day card and her
dresser addressed specifically to my husband. I think she bought
it but never had the chance to give it to me.
Finding it meant a lot during a very difficult time.
Story eighteen. My father was a successful businessman from Detroit.

(23:21):
He grew up in a tough neighborhood, but managed to
get into a good school, earn an engineering degree, and
eventually own his own machine shop. Things went well until
the two thousand and eight financial crash, which brought a
lot of stress. Shortly after I left for college, my
mother convinced him to enter rehab for alcoholism. He managed
a few weeks sober before relapsing twice more. After that,

(23:45):
he began acting aggressively and driving under the influence. My
mother divorced him, and he isolated himself in an apartment
before eventually drinking himself to death. While cleaning out his apartment,
I found piles of rehab literature. I didn't want to
know every detail, but I didn't want to throw out
anything important for handling the estate. Among the papers was

(24:05):
a worksheet where he had written a timeline of his
relationship with drugs and alcohol. I learned that he had
first tried meth at age thirteen, started smoking cannabis at eleven,
and by fourteen was smoking daily and drinking on weekends.
It was a shock, but it explained a lot. I
can't imagine growing up in an environment where parents ignored

(24:25):
or didn't notice that. Despite everything, I'm grateful he found
a way to raise me in a more stable and
structured environment than the one he had known. Story nineteen.
A close friend of our family, almost like a stepfather
to me, though he and my mother were never together,
had ongoing heart problems. After getting a pacemaker, there were
complications in surgery. The doctor said it wasn't life threatening,

(24:49):
but might cause discomfort. Before that, he had been full
of energy, active in the community, helping kids leave gang
life behind. He loved video games, especially for someone in
his late fifties. One night, while visiting, we talked about
metal Gear Solid four. He said he couldn't get passed
a part where you had to follow someone without being detected.

(25:10):
I told him about a trick I had seen in
a speed run injure the target and then follow them
at a slower pace. Later that night, he went home early,
saying his chest hurt, and told my mother he loved her.
The next morning, I woke up to my mother screaming outside.
There were police and paramedics. He had passed away during
the night. Some believed it was due to his health.

(25:33):
Others thought it might have been from taking too much
pain medication. The only bittersweet comfort I found was seeing
his television still on in power save mode. He had
gotten past that part of the game we had talked
about earlier. It made me smile through the tears, knowing
he had that small victory before the end. Story twenty.
My grandmother had an old friend who lived in the

(25:54):
apartment above hers for about fifty years. She had no
close family nearby. Her two adult daughters were in other countries,
and her husband had passed away many years earlier. When
she passed, her family asked us to go upstairs clean
and take an inventory of her belongings. What we found
was unusual and sad. She had been a kind of

(26:14):
doomsday prepper, owning sixteen or seventeen large steel cupboards, each
about four feet by three feet by seven feet. Inside
were all sorts of supplies, one cupboard full of canned food,
another with medical supplies That was a little eccentric, but
still understandable. Then we found one cupboard filled entirely with
small denomination banknotes, still wrapped from the bank. She had

(26:38):
withdrawn a large sum in small bills and never used them,
and some were so old they were no longer in circulation.
Another cupboard contained only alcohol, premium bottles, including single malt
whiskies and expensive vodka. Only one cupboard held clothes. What
made this sad was how she passed. She had slipped
and fallen, unable to get up for an entire weekend

(27:00):
until my grandmother realized she hadn't heard from her friend
in a couple of days. When we checked on her,
she was still conscious but very weak, and she passed
in the hospital a day later. She had been surrounded
by supplies meant for emergencies, but none of it could
help in the moment she truly needed it. Story twenty one.
My grandmother had three children, including my mother, and all

(27:21):
of us were very close to my aunt. We often
visited her at the old family home, which had been
in the family for three generations. Over time, she developed
dementia and eventually cancer returned. She passed away in that house.
Since no one was going to move in, we began
sorting everything to either donate, discard, or divide among family members.

(27:42):
My aunt was a lesbian, something my family had known
but never really discussed openly, especially in my grandmother's day
when it wasn't as widely accepted. Still, our family loved
her and it was simply an unspoken fact. I never
brought it up with her, though I always felt a
personal connection, being the first and only openly gay person
in the family in two generations since her. While cleaning

(28:05):
her closet, I found a type memoir she had written,
detailing her experiences as a lesbian through the decades. My
mother wanted to destroy it, but I kept it. Reading
it gave me a deeper connection to her and to
that part of my family history which had never been
talked about openly. The years had softened some of the
hardships she described, but it gave me a window into

(28:27):
her life and into a past that I felt was
worth preserving. Story twenty two. My brother passed away last year,
and going through his belongings was one of the hardest
things I've ever done. He didn't leave a note, but
he was an aspiring musician, and we found his song lyrics.
I never would have guessed he was in such a
dark place from the things he wrote. His words felt

(28:49):
both hopeless and resigned, though he had hidden those feelings
from us completely. I stayed up all night with those
lyrics running through my mind. Later, I returned to his
room alone, trying to take it all in, and found
a hidden notebook with more writing in it. He expressed
sorrow for how his decision would affect my sister and
place some blame on my mom for his feelings. I

(29:12):
struggled for hours over whether to remove that page, knowing
it would devastate her to read it. What hurt me
most was realizing, after seeing his words about my sister,
that there was nothing addressed to me, no final message,
nothing personal to hold on to. I searched through everything,
hoping for even a few words meant for me, but

(29:34):
I never found them. Story twenty three. When my brother passed,
he was living alone. He had a girlfriend, but she
lived elsewhere and she wanted no part in cleaning out
his house. The rest of my family wasn't close to him,
so the responsibility fell entirely on me. He had been
my best friend and my closest companion, so being in
his home so soon after was a deeply unsettling experience.

(29:58):
In his bedroom, I found the usual thing, magazines, personal items.
But then I turned to the wall of shoe boxes
he had always kept stacked high. I had never really
thought about it before, but he only owned a few
pairs of shoes. Opening the boxes, I discovered they were
all filled with money, nothing smaller than twenty dollars bills.
Every box was completely full, about fifty boxes in total,

(30:22):
each holding roughly five thousand dollars. All together it was
around two hundred and thirty thousand dollars. I have no
idea where he got it, though I assume he earned it,
given how casually it was stored. I didn't tell anyone.
They hadn't been there for him when he needed them,
and didn't care to help with his final affairs. I've
kept it all safe and planned to use it to

(30:43):
buy a house for my wife and me. I see
it as a way to honor his memory for years
to come, and to remain grateful for the brother I had.
Story twenty four. I discovered my grandmother had been an
unwed mother when I found her real marriage certificate. She
had lied about the year she and my grandfather were married,
claiming it was a year earlier than it actually was.

(31:05):
We had no pictures of their wedding in a church,
only one of them in a family member's living room
after the ceremony, and a picture of a small cake.
My grandmother had always said the film got exposed and
that's why there were no photos. She wore a pink
wedding dress, which I had always found strange, but she
told me her sister had bought it for her. The

(31:26):
truth was there had been no church wedding because she
wasn't allowed to marry in the church and she couldn't
wear white. Coming from a small town, her family had
sent her away to a friend's farm a few hours
away during her pregnancy and birth. The wedding was arranged
in someone's living room when my grandfather returned from the
Air Force on leave. She kept the secret her entire life.

(31:48):
I think only her brother in law knew, and he
never told anyone, not even when we celebrated what we
thought was their fiftieth anniversary, which was actually their forty ninth.
I found out while cleaning her closet and going through
her when I died bind her. The dates didn't match
what I had seen on forms, so I did the
math and realized why my mom and her siblings were shocked.

(32:11):
Story twenty five. My father passed away four years ago.
Though it feels like it just happened, it was sudden
a heart attack, and he'd never had any heart issues
or even smoked. The night before, he said he had
terrible chest pain and couldn't lie down comfortably. We had
no idea it could be a heart attack. He even
joked that he was going to die and we laughed.

(32:32):
After a sleepless night for him, I left for class
in the morning, and just fifteen minutes later I got
a message telling me to come home. He hadn't wanted
to go to the hospital that night, and in a way,
I'm glad he passed away surrounded by the things he loved,
instead of in a room full of strangers. It's especially
hard because we had just started getting along really well

(32:53):
after a difficult period during my high school years. After
his passing, we found out he hadn't been paying taxes
for four to five years, so the fees fell on us.
It almost made me laugh because he'd always hated the government.
My biggest fear now is forgetting his voice, since I
have no recordings of him, but I think it will
always stay with me, even if time makes it harder

(33:15):
to recall. Story twenty six I found out after my
mother passed that she had been lying to me for
years about many things, the biggest being who my brother's
father was. I had always believed it was my dad
until one day, when I was about thirteen, she told
me my brother's father was actually a close family friend.

(33:35):
I was shocked, but I believed her. He did look
a bit like my brother, and at the time I
didn't think much more of it. When she passed away,
I was cleaning out her filing cabinet and found a
paternity test she had done on that family friend. It
clearly stated he was not my brother's father. From what
I could tell, he had never seen those results because
I also found receipts showing he had been paying eight

(33:57):
hundred dollars a month in child support while my dad
was paying three hundred dollars per child she had been
telling them both they were my brother's father to get
money from each of them. This discovery unraveled even more lies.
I spoke to both men and learned just how many
false stories my mom had told me. It hurt deeply.
Even six years later, I still wonder how much of

(34:18):
my life was based on things she invented. Story twenty seven.
My husband passed away recently, and cleaning out his closet
has been an ongoing project for the last two months.
For his last birthday, I took our kids to the
Dollar Store and let them each pick out twenty seven
items for him, since he was turning twenty seven. They
were toddlers and thought it was the funniest thing ever,

(34:38):
so I filmed the whole process and showed my husband.
While sorting through his closet, I found a lot of
Dollar Store bags, which was odd since we never really
shopped there. Going through them, I discovered that for each
child he had prepared year's worth of birthday gifts. One
item for the baby's first birthday, two for the second,
three for the third, and so on. There was even

(35:00):
a full welcome home baby package for the child born.
After he passed away. He had also written letters for
each birthday. Though I haven't been able to open them yet,
I know he meant for me to find them, knowing
I'd find it funny and meaningful, and I hope our
kids will too one day. It was completely unexpected, overwhelming,
and emotional. Even though our children won't remember him personally,

(35:24):
moments like this remind me how lucky they are to
have had him as their father. Story twenty eight. My
grandmother passed away at the age of one hundred and eight.
She had lived a long life and remained relatively healthy
until the end. The arrangement in our family was that
her three sons, all in their sixties and seventies, would
each take turns caring for her for four months at

(35:44):
a time in their own homes. When she passed, she
was staying at my dad's house, so I helped clean
out her room. I had deep respect for her. She
had been illiterate, worked her whole life on a farm,
lived with dirt floors, and used a pit latrine until
the mid nineteen nineties. Her life had been full of challenges,
but she endured with strength. As I went through her dresser,

(36:05):
I found a small keychain a snow man encased in clear,
rectangular plastic, it seemed out of place among her hair
brushes and makeup, especially since she never had keys of
her own. She was always driven by someone else and
didn't need them. I turned it over in my hands,
curious and noticed her youngest daughter's name engraved at the bottom.
My heart sank when I realized what it meant. Her

(36:28):
youngest daughter had passed away in a car accident in
the nineteen eighties on another continent, and she was buried there.
I don't know how my grandmother came to have her
daughter's keychain, but she must have treasured it, holding on
to that small piece of her for decades. It was
a quiet, unspoken expression of her grief and love that
she kept with her until the very end story twenty nine.

(36:51):
My father developed diabetes around the time I was born,
and much of my childhood was spent in er rooms
because he didn't manage it well. When I was eight,
after his first heart attack, my oldest brother asked him
if he really didn't want to live to see my Quincinnia.
The following year, my father decided to move us to Mexico,
where he owned property and wanted to spend his final years.

(37:11):
While there, he began taking better care of himself, lost
weight and seemed healthier. Around that time, one of my
brothers began dating a woman who eventually moved into our
home while my brother worked in the US. Our house
was big enough that we didn't see her much, but
she and my father became involved. I caught them together
more than once, and they threatened to pull me out

(37:32):
of school and make me work in the markets if
I told my mother. My father's priorities shifted. He began
traveling with her, leaving me alone for days, and his
health declined again. She used drugs in the house, practiced
unsettling rituals, and tried to turn me against my mother.
My father passed away when I was eighteen. By then
I was living with my mom in the US, and

(37:54):
although I had told her about his relationship, he denied
it and my brother refused to believe me. My brother
was living with him when he passed, but didn't inform
us right away. We still haven't been able to enter
my father's home because my brother's now wife has legal
rights as a resident. It's been three years, and the
inability to properly say goodbye has left the grief unresolved,

(38:15):
my mother's working with lawyers to reclaim the property, and
I'm waiting for the day we can finally let my
father rest in peace. Story thirty, my mom passed away
after a long battle with lung failure. For a short time,
she moved in with extended family in another state with
a better climate, and her health improved. The plan was
for the rest of us to join her within a year,

(38:35):
but just two weeks later, my brother nearly died from
a sudden brain infection, requiring multiple surgeries. My mom moved
back to help care for him, but her own health
quickly declined, and she passed soon after. While going through
her belongings, I found her diaries and decided to look
for her entry from the night before my brother became
critically ill. In it, she wrote that my father had

(38:58):
claimed to see a dark, human like sh shape in
his room that gave off an overwhelming sense of menace
before disappearing. The very next day, my brother's life was
in danger from a mysterious medical emergency. Doctor's could never
fully explain That event set off the chain of circumstances
that eventually led to my mom's passing. Standing there in
the basement with that diary in hand. I was stunned,

(39:20):
especially because we had witnessed something similar years before. For
a while, I felt like we were cursed. In the end,
I chose not to tell my dad or my siblings.
I hid that diary, believing it was better not to
frighten anyone further. During an already devastating time story thirty one,
my dad had an impressive hidden collection of pipes, rolling papers,

(39:42):
and other smoking accessories, along with items designed to disguise them,
like shaving cream cans with secret compartments. I knew about
most of it and tried to get rid of as
much as I could before my mom found it after
he passed. But he was creative. Things were hidden everywhere,
in the attic, under the house, in hidden compartments in
his van, false panels in the walls, even secret drawers

(40:06):
at the family business. Every so often, my mom would
find something and ask me what it was, and I'd
make up some explanation about it being a travel gadget
or collectible. In recent years, I realized she probably wouldn't
have been as upset about it as I'd thought, especially
after seeing her support relatives using medicinal cannabis. Eventually I
told her everything, including the fact that even though he

(40:28):
had promised her before marriage that he'd stop, he had
continued for decades. She just laughed and said she had
suspected it all along, and that maybe it had even
made him easier to live with. Then she took me
to the shed to show me a beautiful three foot tall,
purple and clear glass piece she had been trying to
use as a vass, but she couldn't keep water in

(40:48):
it because it kept leaking out of a hole near
the bottom story thirty two, my brother lived alone in
a small apartment. When no one had heard from him
for a few days, my mom asked me to check
on him. It was winter and almost dark when I arrived.
The doors were locked and there was no answer, so
I had to break in. The living room was dim
and eerily empty except for scattered trash. The windows were

(41:12):
completely covered in the air smelt stale. As I walked
toward the back, I realized the stillness in the apartment
was hiding something I wasn't prepared for. My brother had
passed away in his bedroom. The scene was deeply disturbing,
and I'll never forget the silence in that place. When
I returned later to gather his belongings, my dad waited outside,

(41:33):
unable to go in. The room still carried the marks
of what had happened, abandoned personal items, signs of his
final days in his note Among his belongings, I found
notebooks he had partially burned, filled with dark and troubling thoughts,
and detailed plans that suggested he had been struggling with
much more than we knew. It was an overwhelming discovery,

(41:54):
and one that still weighs heavily on me. Story thirty three,
my grandmother passed away due to complications from a stroke.
She had been a big part of my dad's life,
and as he got busier with work, I took over
driving her to get groceries or to go see a movie.
After she passed, my dad and I cleaned out her
condo together. It was a solemn task, and we both

(42:14):
found things we wished we hadn't. In her kitchen, I
discovered unopened groceries I had bought for her, many of
her favorites, suggesting she hadn't been eating well in the
months before her stroke. In her sewing room, I found
abandoned projects with mistakes she had hidden away, possibly feeling
too frustrated to finish. My grandmother, who was of Japanese heritage,

(42:35):
had always been careful not to be a burden, though
she was never anything but a joy to our family.
I also found her meticulously kept financial records, which spanned
seventy years, written in elegant handwriting until the last few
years when they became disorganized and hard to read. One
discovery that really stayed with me was a Manila envelope

(42:56):
full of word puzzles from the daily paper. For years,
she had solved them easily, but these had either been
left blank or were filled out in the same shaky
handwriting as her final financial entries. It was a quiet
sign of her declining health. I still do those puzzles
every day, just as she did, and every time I

(43:16):
solve one, I think of her and how time eventually
takes its toll on all of us. Story thirty four.
My grant is still alive, but she has end stage
Alzheimer's and has been in a nursing home for some time.
It was my dad who cleaned out her house before
it was sold to pay for her care, which is
common practice in the UK. While doing so, he found

(43:36):
a lot of drawings I had made as a child.
One in particular stood out. It was a picture of me,
my younger sister, and my gran picking us up for school,
and in the drawing my smile was huge. Seeing it
made me cry. He also found the glass Swan ornaments
she used to display when I was little. They weren't valuable,

(43:57):
but I adored them, and she always said she'd give
them to me one day. She had stopped displaying them
years ago and redecorated multiple times, but she had still
kept them for me. That meant a lot, especially since
I hadn't been able to see her after I was
about four or five because of a difficult family situation.
Even though her health and memory have declined to the

(44:18):
point where she's no longer the person I remember, finding
those things was a reminder that she had kept her
promise and remembered me. Story thirty five. About ten years ago,
my best friend's mother passed away unexpectedly. She had been
living alone after her husband died from cancer six months earlier.
My friend was devastated, so I flew in to help

(44:39):
him clean out her house and plan the memorial. The
shocking discovery came when, alongside her belongings, the police and
coroner found tall cannabis plants in her backyard and a
large bag of it prepared for sale. My friend had
no idea his sweet elderly mother had been supplementing her
retirement income this way. While we were packing, friend quietly

(45:00):
pulled me aside and showed me a duffel bag filled
with more of it, easily several pounds. That evening, after
the other helpers left, we decided to try a little
in her honor. It was incredibly strong, and we both
ended up laughing late into the night. The next day,
while continuing to clean, I opened the fridge in the
garage and was stunned. It was full of more of

(45:21):
the same, including the freezer and drawers. All together, there
was easily over ten pounds of high quality product. My friend,
needing to drive home across multiple state lines, didn't want
to risk traveling with it, so he left it with
a trusted neighbor who had been aware of the growing operation.
We never found out exactly what happened to it, but
we liked to imagine she enjoyed it with friends, or

(45:43):
perhaps sold it and used the money for something fun,
something my friend's mom would have approved of. Story thirty six.
My dad passed away fifteen years ago, and my feelings
toward him are still complicated. I always knew he was
a private man who kept a lot to himself, but
I didn't realize just how much until after he was gone.

(46:03):
When we went through his things, we found evidence of
a long term relationship with another woman, letters and audio
tapes he had recorded for her, expressing deep feelings. It
was devastating to listen to them, and I ultimately destroyed
the tapes because I felt nothing good could come from them.
They were found in an unsealed envelope addressed to her,

(46:24):
alongside letters. We didn't discover this until after the funeral,
so when I met her there, I had no idea
who she really was. In hindsight, that might have been
for the best. My mom had suspected something over the years,
but never had proof. My dad had passed unexpectedly from
a heart attack while they were on a vacation for

(46:45):
their thirtieth anniversary, coincidentally in the same place where this
woman lived. My mom had even had lunch with them
both just days before. There are so many unanswered questions
I've chosen to leave alone. We also found items showing
different religious affiliations. He had been baptized as a Jehovah's
witness for my mom, but also kept Catholic items hidden away.

(47:06):
He owned guns we didn't know about, including one in
his car, and had several hidden bank accounts and insurance policies.
While the secrecy upset my mom, it turned out he
had also set up a lot financially to ensure she'd
be cared for if something happened to him. He was
far from perfect and lived parts of his life in
ways will never fully understand. Our relationship was complex when

(47:27):
he was alive, and I've decided to let the rest
of the unknown stay that way. Story thirty seven. My
grandparents divorced long before I was born, and their separation
was bitter. They never spoke, and when they unexpectedly saw
each other at my sister's wedding more than twenty five
years later, my grandfather simply turned and walked away. Over time,

(47:48):
I learned that my uncle, their youngest son, was believed
by my grandfather to have been fathered by another man.
My grandfather discovered this when my uncle was a teenager
and their relationship ended there after they divorced, my grandmother
and uncle went one way and my grandfather another. They
never reconnected, and my grandfather passed away without seeing him again,

(48:10):
or so we thought. While going through my grandfather's belongings,
my sister and I found keepsakes related to my uncle,
including his high school graduation program with his name circled.
He had attended the ceremony quietly, staying in the back
so my grandmother and uncle wouldn't see him. When my
uncle came to the funeral, it was the first time
he'd been near his father in almost forty years. I

(48:33):
was able to tell him that his dad had cared,
showing him the graduation program as proof. It was bittersweet,
so much love lost over decades, but I was grateful
I could share that truth with him. Story thirty eight.
My grandmother had been living with COPD for as long
as I could remember, a result of smoking in her
younger years. Over time, I watched her abilities slowly fade,

(48:56):
from walking around without issue, to getting winded just going
down the stairs, to eventually kneading an oxygen tank around
the clock. Along with increased nebulizer treatments, and finally relying
on a motorized chair. It was hard to see, and
it became a constant reminder for me of why I
never smoked or used anything that could harm my lungs.

(49:18):
She herself often told us to take her as an
example of what could happen. Eventually, she caught pneumonia, which
made her very ill and required her to move into
an assisted living facility. After her pneumonia cleared, she was
given permission to return home, but not long after, she
passed away from a heart attack, likely worsened by lingering
complications from pneumonia in her already fragile condition. My uncle,

(49:42):
her son, was the one who found her, and it
deeply affected him. That whole period was incredibly difficult for
our family. When we cleaned out her apartment, we found
something unexpected. Stashed behind her dresser was a half empty
pack of cigarettes. As much as I wanted to believe
it might have been in old keepsake from decades ago,
the fact that she had only lived in that apartment

(50:04):
for a year or two made it hard to think
it just happened to be there by chance. It was
a bittersweet find, both a reminder of her struggles and
a part of her story we hadn't known story thirty nine.
I was working as a mortician at the time, and
I had been in this job for a few years
before the small company I worked for was bought by
a much larger one in France. I remember one particular

(50:27):
case involving a young boy. We had a tradition of
drawing straws to decide who would handle children's services, because
they were always the most emotionally difficult, and no one
ever volunteered. This time, my team and I lost. We
went to collect him from the Necker Hospital in Paris,
which specializes in pediatric care. We arrived early to ensure

(50:48):
everything would be done perfectly, as we knew the family
would be on edge that day. I was usually the
one who prepared the bodies after receiving them from the morgue,
so I gently moved him from the cold storage to
the preparation table. He was so small that I was
careful with every movement, worried about causing damage. His legs
were curled to one side and his head was turned slightly,

(51:09):
which would later become important. The thanatopractor had done an
excellent job. His face was preserved perfectly, even His tiny
nose was intact thanks to careful work. His hands were
clean and easy to arrange, and aside from the position
in which he had been preserved, everything was in good condition.
The family had brought clothing for him, so I dressed

(51:30):
him with care, though because of the way he had
been positioned, it was especially difficult to put on the trousers.
Still I managed without undoing any of the careful preservation work.
I fixed his hair neatly and gave him a gentle,
peaceful expression, a little more Titian's trick that tends to
bring some comfort to grieving families. Everything was going well

(51:51):
until we tried to place him in the coffin. Because
of the way he had been preserved, his legs and
head wouldn't fit properly. Just then the ceremonial master came
in to say, the family is here, hurry. We had
to act quickly. Using one of our warm coats, we
wrapped it strategically around his legs to adjust their position.
For his head, we rolled another coat into a small

(52:12):
support and placed it under his ear to keep it aligned.
We then used the blanket and other items the family
had brought to conceal the adjustments. The coffin closed perfectly
and there were no delays. The family never noticed anything unusual,
and the ceremony went smoothly. Somewhere that boy rests with
two of our warm coats. Perhaps not the most remarkable items,

(52:34):
but they made it possible for us to give his
family a dignified farewell. Story forty I had an employee
who lived at my workplace in a small one bedroom
space with a kitchen and bathroom. It had once been
a locker room before he made it his home. He
was a friendly man, always smiling, and he worked extremely hard,
doing very difficult tasks. We handled the collection and processing

(52:56):
of animal remains for hides, which was tough work. One
Wednesday night, a driver mentioned to me that he'd been
acting strangely after hours, but I didn't think much of
it at the time. By Saturday, my dad called to
tell me something had happened. He hadn't been seen for days,
and when they couldn't get into his room, they removed
the window unit and found he had passed away. The

(53:18):
police came, and afterward my father, being unwilling to hire
a professional cleanup service, told me the responsibility would fall
to me. While I was cleaning, another employee mentioned that
he had quite a bit of cash hidden in his room.
I began searching his belongings and found around three thousand dollars.
But as I went through more of his things, I

(53:38):
began to feel an overwhelming sadness. I found papers from
past days in mental health facilities, notes from times he
had been under observation, and informational flyers about basic personal care.
There were more than fifty hats, as many pairs of jenes,
unopened school notebooks, art supplies, and countless pencils and sharpeners.

(53:59):
It dawned on me that he likely had very limited
formal education and may have been introduced to harmful substances
at some point which left lasting effects. Despite his challenges,
he was vulnerable, gentle, and seemed to carry a childlike innocence.
Among his belongings. I also found religious pamphlets and letters
from a group that seemed more interested in his money

(54:20):
than in truly helping him. He was clearly trying to
improve himself and find hope, but it seemed he had
been fighting a battle entirely on his own. In the end,
we finished cleaning the room. Though no one has lived
in it since we located his sister through one of
his journals and gave her both his belongings and the money.
She had no idea where he had been or how

(54:41):
he had been doing. I still think of him often,
his laughter while working, his kindness despite hard circumstances, and
the way he found joy in small moments. His absence
left a quiet space in our workplace, but his memory
stays with me. Story forty one. I come from a
very traditional household. I'm Native American Lakota, and in our culture,

(55:03):
when someone passes away, we burned their clothes and the
things they slept on to help them cross over into
the next life. We're allowed to keep small items like trinkets, memorabilia,
and other meaningful keepsakes. When my grandmother passed, she left
behind nine children, more than sixty grandchildren, and over thirty
great grandchildren. Everyone believed she was recovering in the hospital,

(55:27):
and she was even supposed to come home the very
next day, but she didn't make it. She wasn't a hoarder,
but she kept important documents, everyone's birthdays, stacks of cards
ready to give out, and all kinds of letters addressed
to family members. She never kept a journal to record
her personal thoughts, but she had memories and stories connected

(55:48):
to each of us. The weekend she passed, our entire
family came together from all over the country, the first
time in more than a decade. The last time she
had tried to gather us was for a Christmas dinner
in two thousand and five, but that reunion had ended emotionally,
with her in tears. This time, as the women of
the family sorted through her drawers and boxes, we found

(56:08):
pieces of her connection to each of us. I was
given a cup she bought for me when I was
accepted to KU, a symbol of how proud she was.
There was also a damaged polaroid she had taken when
I got my driver's license back when I was working
on my associate's degree before transferring to a four year college.
My cousin received a photo from when he made it

(56:28):
into Sports Illustrated for basketball. Another cousin had a keepsake
from a beauty pageant, and someone else had a CD
marking a Grammy nomination for World Music. Going through these
items was like stepping into her boundless positivity and hope.
For all of us, we knew that with her passing,
we had lost the constant support she gave, but we
also shared our memories with each other in private, strengthening

(56:51):
the family bond she always valued. When the funeral came,
even more people attended. The first night of the wake,
we actually ran out of food, and people waited outside
in their cars for their turn to enter the gymnasium,
which could hold more than five hundred people. When we
brought her from the funeral home, the procession of cars
stretched for nearly ten miles. She had touched so many

(57:13):
lives and earned the respect of so many people. It
was a truly beautiful way to send her on to
the next life. Story forty two. I recently went through
my dad's belongings. He had worked in the military, so
you might expect his things to be serious and strictly professional.
But when we received his office items, they were filled
with personality Santa hats, submarine shaped tee diffusers, and countless

(57:36):
photos of my sister and me. His wallet still held
pictures of us as little kids, the same ones we
placed with him when we cremated him. The most surprising
discovery was in a suitcase in his wardrobe that he
didn't like anyone touching. Inside were valuable and sentimental items,
twenty first birthday cards, baby photos, and even a journal

(57:56):
he had kept from nineteen eighty one to nineteen eighty six.
Those pages spanned three different relationships in all of his
military training. In one entry, he poured out his heartbreak
after being dumped, and there were visible watermarks on the page.
Just a month later, he wrote about meeting a new girlfriend,
my mom, and how he was certain he would marry her.
The journal also revealed personal history I hadn't known. He

(58:19):
wrote about feeling let down by his parents and sisters,
how they asked him not to write while he was
away at military school, how they showed no excitement when
he announced his engagement, and how relieved he was to
move away from them. Reading that helped put a lot
into perspective, especially since those same relatives have acted like
they were deeply close to him after his passing, despite

(58:41):
their distance when he was alive. My favorite part of
the journal was how casual it was at times, complaints
about his drill sergeant, descriptions of tough days, little slices
of daily life. There were a few entries I skipped
because they were more personal than I wanted to know,
but overall, it was incredible to have his words from
when he was my age. It gave me a window

(59:03):
into the kind of person he was and showed me
how much of him lives on in me.