I spent about half my work-day continuing the process of cleaning house - or, rather, office. Once again filled the recycling bin behind building 26, this time with files left behind by dozens of former coworkers.
One had even left all of her personal financial records (paystubs, donation reports, health insurance forms) as well as personnel files for those she supervised. Out they went. Along with folder after folder from strategic conferences she attended, filled with notes that probably no one else would understand. There were probably some gems in there, but they were hard to recognize... I salvaged and preserved what I could. Some of this stuff could be really helpful. It's hard to tell.
I really don't like having to be the one to make these decisions, but when your whole department leaves and you are the only one left, and it's time to downsize... what do you do? I shouldn't delegate such things to S., who has only been here a year, or to a hapless volunteer. But it was painful to do it myself.
Some of the files dated back to Caleb Project's glory days (sigh!) Others recorded darker times (shudder!) So I felt both the nostalgia of a mother packing up baby things and the pain of a widow getting rid of her husband's shirts. Though at times it was more like the frustration of a mom cleaning up after her teenager who had left way too much crap behind.