My grandmother’s house, where she had been living for the past 40 years, was demolished last April because of an urban development project.

When my family and I started helping to clear it out, we couldn’t understand why she had kept so many random and unnecessary things—my mother’s baby clothes, unworn for 60 years, or my grandfather’s suits, untouched for three decades since his passing. Cleaning up all these belongings was such a laborious job that we were almost angry at her for holding on to things she no longer needed.

However, at one point, I realized her memories were deeply tied to these random objects. When I showed her my mother’s baby clothes to ask if it was okay to throw them away, she began telling a detailed story about when my mother was a baby wearing them, as if it had happened yesterday. For her, these objects were more than things— they were fragments of her memories, tying her to the people and moments she loved. At 91, with her memory fading, even the smallest, seemingly random items were important to her. Losing them felt like losing a part of herself and her connection to her loved ones.

Her 40-year-old house was not just a place to live. Losing it without her choice was unimaginably heartbreaking. For this reason, I decided to photograph her house and the things in it that would soon be thrown away. We cannot keep everything or remember every moment, but at the very least, having photographs of something with sentimental value can remind us of the mundane but meaningful moments and the connections that shape our lives.