My mother was a hoarder. Her father was a hoarder. If they had one of something, it was a safe bet they had FIVE of something. After my mother passed, my dad surprised me by seeming to discover her propensity for collecting things for the first time in fifty-one years of marriage.  I guess the secret to a successful relationship is not to look in the closets.  She had over eighty pairs of shoes . . . IN THEIR BOXES.  When he mentioned her twenty-five open bottles of shampoo with the comment, “She didn’t have that much hair!” I lost it. We pushed past the sorrow of her loss and…