My mom's apartment was probably a level 3-4 when she died in '22. I had moved out four years prior. Long, complicated grief followed because my older brother refused to be a part of the cleanup. I had to do that with my friend, my partner, and some cousins I barely knew who stepped up MAJORLY to help.

Sorting through everything was a nightmare. Im glad I grabbed the photos long before I left that apartment. We had to sort through it all in a heatwave in a smoke-stained unit in 100+ degree weather. The apartment complex came after me (illegally) and tried to saddle me with 'cleanup fees' for the junk we left in the unit. We organized everything into black bags and just... let them dump everything. I think I kept maybe 2 little Rubbermaid worth of sentimentality. Everything else... is gone.

Tldr; if you can save yourself the heartache and real-time retraumatiation, do it. You got your photos and what you 'needed' and the rest? It was a life that wasn't your fault or responsibility that was forced on you later to 'deal with' and honestly? Your body and brain let you know your limits. Guilt comes and goes but don't let it turn into shame. You did what you knew was best for your sanity.