My father’s house was a mess. The countertops were covered in books and littered with dusty Post-it notes. The washing machine rattled the whole house when it ran and if you turned on the kitchen sink while it was running, a pool of water would form at the base. And the winters had not been kind to the front patio deck, where the wanting wood was a hazard even on the driest of days. 

The house had been in a state of disrepair for years now and despite my and my sibling's protestations and...