Well, shit. My mom died. (On Christmas, no less.) The November prognosis of “months” whittled to “weeks to months,” shortly collapsed into “days,” and then she was gone. It wasn’t wholly unexpected – she’d been battling stage IV cancer for a decade, something I never mentioned here – but it was a terrible end to a terrible year. 

Brenda described the medical complications of 2025 as akin to navigating white water rapids – you’re just trying to hold on through chaos – but now, four months later, I’d compare the last 124 days without her to something like being tossed off a waterfall in a barrel. I feel completely untethered, I still feel like I’m in free fall, and I very much look forward to the day when I no longer need to use a convoluted water metaphor to analogize my feelings. (But before you feel too bad for me, please know that Brenda was making quips like “ugh, how much can you cry?” and “God, I didn’t raise you to be such a wimp” until the end. And to her credit, she was my age – 34, with an 18-month-old baby in tow – when my dad passed away the day before their wedding anniversary. So I guess it could be even more devastating, huh?)

To that end, I unfortunately have to cease my moping and put on my big girl pants because I’VE GOTTA SELL MY CHILDHOOD HOME. I think Brenda knew that I would dillydally on this task if left to my own devices, so she explicitly listed what needed to be fixed (fresh carpets and maintained landscaping, mainly) and left me instructions to list it in the spring, which is…uh, about now. So today, I want to kick off a little series on selling my childhood home – including all the nitty-gritty financial dirt, presented from a person who has, ironically, never even bought a house. I also wanted to share some of the details on how my mom organized her affairs to make things easier for me, for those of you who may have put your own estate planning on the back burner. Let’s start with the latter and then dive into the former, yeah?

Lightening The Load – How My Mom Made It Easy To Sell Her House

• She put the property in a revocable living trust. You’re going to need an estate attorney here, but it’s absolutely worth it. And it’ll save your loved ones on probate taxes in the end – in Delaware, we’re charged an administration fee of about 2% of the entire estate (in my case, that’d be about $16,500 for the house alone). By putting our home in a trust and making me the successor trustee, we’ve avoided the court system and enabled me to meet the supersonic sales deadline imposed by Brenda.
• She pre-scheduled maintenance. Imagine my surprise when, in January, our HVAC company came by to tune up our furnace and discovered that it was on its last legs. I had a new one installed the next day – my first time ever dropping over $9,000 on a home repair – and discovered that the house was, in fact, significantly warmer with a functioning furnace. (Imagine that!) She scheduled the AC tune-up earlier this month, too, and luckily, it was in perfect working order. I guess the moral here is just to stay on top of your home maintenance, but boy, what a blessing to not have to discover failing systems during an inspection! 
• She booked her own Swedish death cleaning service. Because what fun is hospice if you’re not actively depressing your family with how considerate you can be? She paid a team of 4 for 2 days of help and told me to reach out when I was ready, which happened to be last week. I’ve handled the overwhelming bulk of clean-out by myself – I have laid eyes on every sheet of paper in this home – but I’ve tapped the experts to help me sort through the garage and what remains in the basement. At the time, I thought it was morbid and depressing, but as decision fatigue begins to set in, I am just so grateful for my mom’s foresight. (She also curated the playlist for her own funeral, if you’re ever in hospice and looking to kill some time. If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.) (I’m still crying anyway.) 
• Bonus: She switched all accounts to physical mail. Did she add my FaceID and fingerprint to her phone and laptop? Yes. Were the bulk of her passwords saved? Also yes, and that has been pretty helpful! But more helpful than anything? PHYSICAL MAIL. Mortgage updates? All in the mail. Utility bills? Just check the mail. Where did she have bank accounts? Found them in the mail! Need to figure out which credit cards to cancel? It’s easy, because they sent some mail! It’s been transformative: I’ve actually switched to all paper statements, should Dennis ever have to go through this process on my behalf. All-digital communication is overrated. 

The Plan For Prep

I know this is the juicy part that we’re all interested in, but we’re going to eat some vegetables first in the event that someone out there is in a similar situation and feeling overwhelmed at the process of emptying out like, 4,000 square feet of stuff. I’d now like to introduce you to the (soon-to-be-trademarked?) Caitlin Higgins Method for Successor Trustees Preparing a House for Sale. 

Step One: Begin with the paper declutter. You’re likely going to find things in here that you need to carry out the rest of the process, anyway. Your local shredding company is about to become your best friend. Your recycling cans will overfloweth. You will find documents everywhere: in the kitchen. The desks. Filing cabinets. The basement. (Didn’t expect to find paperwork down there, honestly.) Your first job is to be a truffle pig for documents.

Step Two: Find your donation company of choice, because you’re about to spend a lot of time together. I landed on the Ministry of Caring – an organization I volunteered with in high school – because I wanted my mom’s things to go straight to those in need (vs. straight to the Goodwill bins, where they’ll be purchased by a flipper). I know I’m leaving a ton of money on the table here – she has beautiful clothing, nice homewares, great furniture, all that jazz – but the stress of managing Facebook Marketplace or Poshmark sales on top of all other executrix (did not know it was a gendered term!) duties didn’t seem like a particularly wise use of time. 

Dennis sniffed out some great specialty donation spots, too – Project Cure took all of our medical equipment and supplies (and I mean all of them – even the hard-to-donate things, like commodes and picc line caps and iodine). They’re a really incredible organization doing wonderful work – I’m so glad that Den found them! And, of course, you can’t forget the pets – Humane Animal Partners is now the proud owner of 22 dog beds of varying sizes (why did we have so many?!) and a seemingly infinite number of sheets and blankets. Our local Green Drop location has been great for any miscellany.

Step Three: Begin the clear-out process. It is going to take much longer than you realize. I started with dressers and armoires, then tackled cabinets and credenzas, then full closets, then anything under the bed. This is going to be a demoralizing process because all of your work is behind-the-scenes, so to speak, so there’s no immediate visual payoff, but at least you’ll know that the house is much emptier than it began. And that’s something, right?

Step Four: Enlist your realtor. I’m not going to lie: I did this out of order – I actually ordered (and paid) for new flooring before enlisting the help of a realtor. I think this is mainly because the first thing Brenda said after hearing she had months to live was, “oh no, I should have fixed the carpet” (only later did she also remember that we were planning to go to Africa this year – the carpets were still her top concern. In her final conversation with Dennis, she stressed to him that I needed to fix the carpets. As if I’d forget!!!). But a realtor can take a look at your property and help you discern what’s worth investing in. 

Step Five: Begin your updates. This is the phase we’re currently in! Our flooring is scheduled for installation in early May, and our landscaping is all set and ready to go for 2026. You might want to call in additional experts here, like a painter who tells you that literally no one can see the invisible spots you are pointing at and that there’s nothing to be fixed. (You might also want to cry through this meeting, just for fun, because your emotional regulation skills are fully out of whack at this point.) Your realtor may call you several times to help talk you off the metaphorical ledge. She will then take over communication with the trades – something I honestly didn’t even know a realtor could do! – and will make your life about a million times easier. 

The Numbers – It’s $$$ Time

ALRIGHT. WE’VE REACHED THE MEAT AND POTATOES. THE GOOD STUFF. Let’s talk about money. (And my rapidly decreasing credit score – if you’re the executor of an estate and feel like you’re bleeding dough, you’re in good company. My credit utilization rate and stress levels are at all-time highs, but we’re going to make it through!!!) 

On the cost front, I’ve sunk over $26,000 into this house over the past few months. I’ve literally never spent $26,000 on anything – maybe my car, inflation-adjusted? Or college tuition? – So working with my own money at this scale over the past few months has been kind of horrifying. (Funeral expenses, cremation fees, inherited pet surgery – I went from like, 3% utilization to 80% real quick!)

I plunked down $9,000 for a new furnace; spent $15,000 on about 2,500 square feet of carpeting and tile (I did splurge on all-wool carpet and natural padding – a 25% off sale made it tenable. This cost includes removal, furniture moving, and install – we’re starting next week!); and have laid out about $2,000 on mulch (why is that so expensive?!) and landscape maintenance, including a weekly mowing service. 

Once the carpet is down and furniture has been safely moved back into place, we’ll revisit touching up any trim or paint. I’ll definitely keep you posted on cost, because I’m nosy, have no filter, and am happy to overshare on the internet. (I did also get Brenda’s blessing to blog about it, so you can indulge with me. She also suggested I might want to write a screenplay about our year, and said it’d be “a heartbreaker.” Maybe I’ll consider it once this house is sold?)

And now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for: the listing price. My mom purchased our home in 2004 for $520,000. 22 years later, she’s hitting the market with updated hardscaping, to-die-for landscaping, an updated kitchen, and a remodeled primary bathroom at $825,000. Homes in our neighborhood have sold for $839,000 and $842,000 within the past few months, so I’m hoping that we’ve positioned ourselves competitively. 

I did explore some alternative avenues here – I got an OpenDoor offer for $776,000, which actually would have netted me more cash by eliminating realtor fees (estimating ~5%, or $41,250) and the $17,000 I’ve spent on updates. I really did consider this – I know it’d be financially prudent for me – but the idea of selling to a corporation (or to any of the obituary-reading grifters who have been haranguing me with letters, texts, calls, DMs, home visits, etc., offering to buy my home at a discount – straight to jail with all of you!!!) made me feel nauseous. Maybe one day I’ll look back and regret not maximizing my income potential, but this house was the spot when I was growing up – where everyone got ready for dances, where my friends had their own rooms, where we stayed up late enjoying the backyard – and I just want it to go to normal people. I don’t want this home to just be a business transaction that increases a company’s bottom line, you know? 

So I’m in the final stretch – aiming to officially hit the market 5/27 – and I’m hoping that we’ll be able to sell it quickly. I mean, it’s still technically spring through 6/20, isn’t it? I still have a ton of stuff to move out of the house, which Dennis and I will be tackling this weekend, and I’m securing a storage space for the furniture I can’t yet bear to part with, like my mom’s iron canopy bed and my grandparents’ grandfather clock. I’m almost ready to tap in the EHD team – the next update from me will be about how we’re styling the house to sell, which should come out in a few weeks.

All this to say: man, dying sucks, huh? I wish I weren’t doing any of this right now. But the only way out is through, I guess? TO THE BOTTOM OF THE WATERFALL I GO. 

PS. I just carved out a section where I could sing the praises of my wonderful, wonderful coworkers at EHD. When I flew to the East Coast last February to take care of my mom after what I thought would be a routine hip surgery, I had no idea how the year would unfold. I remember talking to Em on the phone in March or April – I was totally breaking down, was overwhelmed from my new caregiving role, and didn’t think I could juggle work – and she had my back, 100%, no questions asked. I honestly can’t even remember how much time I spent out of the office last year – I think it was months, but my memory has been colored by that hospital haze – but I remember that every. single. doctor. offered to write me an FMLA letter, and couldn’t believe that I had a job that offered me the level of time and flexibility I needed to devote all my energy to my mom. No one at EHD had to cover for me – and in a normal business, I’m sure I would have gotten the boot – but this team allowed me to focus all my energy where it most needed to be without a second thought. Whenever you read a post here, just know that it was written by a GOOD FREAKIN’ EGG with the kindest heart. I’m so lucky to be here. :’) ONWARDS!