I was a professional organizer for 15 years. This is what I learned when I helped my dad declutter.

• I helped people get rid of their disorganized stuff.

• I decided to take my dad as my last client because I no longer work as an organized person.

• We looked through old photos and papers.

I worked as a professional organizer for 15 years and helped people remove clothing and old papers from their homes. I offered to work with my dad after I said I had organized my last client.

I didn't think the skills I'd learned in my career would give him insight into his past.

My dad stopped practicing medicine at 89. He used to ask for help with his home office. He was a regular at the YMCA. I did not feel like I was in urgent need.

Three months before my dad's birthday, he collapsed on the way to the kitchen, his legs turned into noodles. My slow crawl at addressing his messy office accelerated into a 50 yard dash as his health declined.

He used to be very organized

I knew he could organize. He had a collection of silk ties hanging inside his closet doors. He put his shirts above his pants. Each morning, with his dark hair slicked back and his black mustache combed, he left the house as if he were going to a photo shoot. I appreciated my dad's attention to detail because I was a nerd who made to-do lists in grade school.

He wasn't able to climb the stairs to his second-floor home office so I emptied his desk drawers and put them in a cardboard box. I put them next to his favorite chair.

Look, Dad," he said. We went through the papers and I said "Here's your first contract with the doctor."

He looked at his starting salary and shook his head.

We tackled a few boxes when I arrived. I found a dozen black-and-white photographs of relatives I didn't know about.

Father, who are the people in this picture?

I stopped him as he began to say who each person was. I had to write the names on a sticky note. The last living member of his family from Poland, he only had the ability to identify the subjects in the faded images.

We played a game of "name that relative" after we sorted through the photos. My dad allowed me to record his life story three years before our organizing project began. I was able to match the names and faces of aunts, uncles, and cousins who had died during the Holocaust with the people my dad had described.

He died shortly after we finished

Everything from old report cards to financial statements were contained in the remaining file cabinet drawers. The papers need to be trimmed.

I had never helped someone organize with the threat of death looming over them. I looked forward to spending time with my dad instead of dreading the process. Years ago, I imagined a chore would turn into a journey into his life.

He died less than a month after I dropped off the last bag.

I thought about how my father and I had accomplished our goals. I was thankful for the chance to question him, in real time, about the photos I'd discovered and the documents he'd kept for decades, because he was relieved he hadn't burdened our family with mounds of paper and paraphernalia.

My dad trusted me to help him sort through the evidence of a challenging and rewarding life and to preserve his legacy.

She is a writer in Texas. Her work has appeared in a number of publications. She can be found at Lisakanarek.com.

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