We three sisters have pretty much gone through Mom’s house and sorted things into piles and stacks; we keep finding things I call “landmines,” that have some emotional or sentimental value. For instance, I found myself crying over a blackened skillet today. Also, a boxful of old photos and cards yielded a Father’s Day card I sent to Pop in about 1967, the year before he died. I was staying in Grand Junction with my godparents while he was building my playhouse. Re-connecting with my childhood, after not seeing these objects that represent specific events in so long, is proving to…