I had the occasion to catch up with a longtime friend recently. Our families were close growing up and both of us lost a parent during the past three years. What’s great about old friends is not only do they know all your little secrets and proclivities, but they can talk to you about them like the whispering 11-year-old sleepover pals you used to be not so long ago.

This time we talked cleaning out our loved ones’ homes. We both used the acronym PTSD — repeatedly. We nodded and sighed at the guilt we still carry over it. How awful it feels to trash or void someone’s physical existence. We both have the same scary weird dream, too, and it goes like this: after the stuff purge, the loved one comes back to life, confused. Wondering where their stuff is. And we’re like, “uh, wow, you’re supposed to be dead. There was like zero chance you were getting better, and gosh, here you are. Sorry, but you’re going to have to live with us now because I threw out or sold all your stuff, including your house and all your clothes and all your favorite home decor. I could have sworn the doctor said there was no rebounding to expect here, but boy were they wrong. I am so sorry about that, geez.”

Here’s what you don’t understand until you’ve been someone’s stuff grim reaper: it is scarring and deeply troubling, and it sticks with you a long time — even in your dreams. Being on the early side of parental death and demise navigation, we know this to be absolute truth but have found there are not many people with whom to commiserate over it. So you end up feeling soft and freakish about the PTSD, which in itself is not healthy.

Maybe the answer is, let’s do more talking and warning about it. And for those of us who are coming along in our “stuff life,” let’s think of ways we can minimize, plan for and de-glorify our possessions. I don’t want my things to define me and my legacy. I want to leave my kids happy memories, relief and love, gifts that keep on keepin’ on — I refuse to saddle them with trash bags full of crap and PTSD, what a bore.

The other great thing about longtime friends is that they knew your parents back in the day. So in addition to the dream-sharing, they can also remind you what kick a** loved ones you had. This is a great gift! The moral of this story is: keep the conversation going! Healthy convo with people you love can help normalize the yuck and celebrate the good. More talk! Less stuff! #GrandPlans