Recently, I had the privilege (and workout) of helping my uncle clear his attic. What we thought might be a straightforward tidy-up turned into something of an archaeological dig, layers of life stacked up in a space no bigger than an average bedroom. If you’ve ever opened the attic door and immediately felt overwhelmed, you’re not alone. This one took nine hours, three car loads to charity, four green bins, a boot full to landfill, and a few emotional moments to sort through. And honestly? It was kind of brilliant. We laughed, we chatted and sneezed but mostly, we discovered just how much an attic can hold; not just in things, but in memories.
My uncle sat on the single bed in the space and I looked around thinking, this is not THAT bad. Then he said “we should open the hatch and see what’s in there?” We were immediately greeted by a cascade of bags, boxes, suitcases and what I can only describe as a cloud of dust from 1993. What we uncovered was a full cast of my cousins’ childhoods, my uncle’s hobbies, my aunts work items and even left over tiles from project long since finished. All left here to free up space elsewhere or perhaps to come back to ‘another day’ to sort but it never happened. Adult children living abroad leaving items for the next time they visited……all now long forgotten! There was sentiment, for sure, but a real desire to make space and clear it up as a legacy gift for his children.
What struck me most was my uncle’s ability to balance memory with momentum. There were pauses, of course. A quiet moment over a framed photo, a few words about the past, but there was also humour.
“This isn’t decluttering,” he muttered at one point, “this is a full-blown excavation.”
He was right. Still, he made decisions steadily, kindly, and with surprising ease. He told stories as he let things go. That, I think, is the sweet spot. When you can honour the memories without having to hold onto every object. Grief isn’t erased by tidying, but sometimes it’s softened by sharing.
In the beginning he just said “dump it, if I haven’t seen it for twenty years then out it goes”. Describing where I could bring a lot of the items and how they could bring someone else joy made my uncle look into bags and suitcases with new vigour.
At Kindred Sorting, I’m committed to making sure things go where they’ll be useful, appreciated, or responsibly handled. Here’s where this particular attic’s treasures ended up:
- Three car loads to local charity shops
- Some items on a pay it forward website
- Four green bins filled (honourably, without overstuffing!)
- One run to WEEE recycling for old electronics
- A boot load to landfill but only what absolutely had to go
- A couple of furniture pieces given new life through upcycling
The attic didn’t just get cleared, it got repurposed. What was once a no-go zone of dusty memory was now a functional, clear space. Those eaves finally freed from years of holding on. And more importantly, it became a weight lifted.
The Moral of the Mess
If there’s one thing I took away from this project, it’s that even a modest attic can hold a lot. We also need to be mindful that these spaces can damage our items. Saving them for another time when, in fact, we destroy them for anyone to enjoy. It doesn’t have to be overwhelming. Bit by bit, with a few good laughs and some steady support, you can face what’s up there. You can make decisions. You can share stories. You can let go and make room. I was convinced we would find an envelope of cash at some point but it wasn’t to be! What we did find was far more valuable: peace of mind, clarity, and a sense of moving forward.
If this story strikes a chord with you or you’re eyeing your own attic, shed, or spare room with a bit of dread then Kindred Sorting can help. Whether you’re facing a family transition, tackling years of accumulation, or just want a steady hand and a kind heart to guide you through the process, I’m here.
Get in touch and let’s talk about making space, physically and emotionally for whatever is next.
Kindred Sorting 