What if the kids found it after I died?

I am 50.  I am married.  I am moving from the Upper Midwest to the Southwest in 3 months.  My husband, after 7 months of unemployment, found a job 1600 miles away.  So now that he is gainfully employed, I am staying behind while the youngest finishes his last 3 months of high school and packing up 11 years of a home that includes treasures and trash from 1 dad, 1 mom, 4 children, and one mother-in-law.  We are downsizing from about 3,000 square feet to something closer to 1,300 square feet.  No small feat.

So when I got to the box that has lovingly contained the amazingly small, push-up bra that I wore on my wedding day, along with my peach lace see-through wedding night nightie, no longer did they hold the sweet sentimentality that they held for me when I packed them away long ago... my first thought was "Oh my gosh!  I'd be mortified if my kids found this after I died!"  And so they were unceremoniously stashed in a Glad Force-Flex bag, right along with the shredded credit card bills from 2002 and a stack of Us Magazines.  My kids were still small the last time I packed those things away.  So small that I wasn't thinking about things like death, illness, estate sales, senility and the eye-rolling of my children.

Now that I've been on the packing and un-packing side of a parent in assisted living, I have been guilty of looking at one woman's treasures with a raised eyebrow and wondering to myself, "What on earth..."

A good mama bear always does her best to protect her cubs.  I have hopefully circumvented the emotional trauma of them imagining their mother in that nightgown.