Well, it looks like I did it again… I missed another week. I am so sorry…
It just seems like life lately has doubled its speed, and I am struggling to keep up. Can you relate at all?
In the last month, I have helped my daughter and grandson move, we had a wedding, and last week, I had all of my floors replaced. I don’t know what I was thinking, because this meant moving over 90% of my belongings into the garage (including toilets – which is a whole other story) … and back in (which I am still working on). Of course, part this process has also meant cleaning out and getting rid of things I don’t need or want any more. Bringing that stuff back into the house seemed pointless, but of course, it also meant a slower process. Of course, all of this has resulted in more space to work with so most things are not going back where they used to be… I know I will be happy when it is done, but the whole experience is one I don’t want to ever repeat again in this lifetime. LOL!
So… this cleaning out process… most things that I have let go have been no problem, but there have been a few things that required some thought… They required choices… And some of those choices were ones I wasn’t even thinking about making when this process started.
The biggest choice had to do with Bruce’s old dresser… Not the dresser itself but the memorial to him that I started right after he died and have added to bit by bit over the years. It consisted of his school yearbooks and awards, pictures (of course), his karate black belt, some Jimmy Buffet memorabilia, his favorite cap, the luggage tags from the cruise when we met (and he hung onto), and more… All things he had treasured and saved, which was actually a big deal because generally speaking he didn’t usually hang onto anything. However, through the years, as I cleaned out boxes and drawers, I had found these items, and learned a little bit more about him with each item.
Also, on this dresser were a dozen dried roses. I had bought them for myself (from Bruce) on our anniversary that first year after he died. They were still sitting in the same vase, the way I placed them eight years ago, perfectly dried with time. However, time had also turned them black, and because they were so delicate (and precious to me), starting so show a layer of dust that I couldn’t seem to get off without tearing them up. Years ago, one of kids gently tried to suggest it was time to throw them out, but I wasn’t ready, and they quickly let the subject go – never mentioning it again.
However, last week as I looked at them… I mean really looked at them, I realized that they didn’t really bring me joy like the other items. They just made me sad… I reminder of the last several anniversaries spent alone. Then, I looked again, and decided, they were actually kind of creepy… Not something I needed to perpetuate. So… I did what I never thought of doing before… I tossed them out.
As for the rest of the memorial, I kept everything, but I moved them to different spaces. The memorial is gone… for me it is time, but he is not forgotten. I have simply moved his memories throughout the house rather than focusing all of those things into an official “memorial.” It feels better… It feels healthy… I couldn’t have done it even a few months ago, but now the time was right… And I’m good with it.
I remember a year after he died, I was finally ready to go through and remove things like his clothes and such. I had a wonderful neighbor who came over and helped me. She listened as I shared stories and hugged me when I cried. I kept a few things then, such as the outfit he wore when we got married. Everything else I offered to family members first, then took to the local charity shop. It had taken me a year to get to that point, but I was ready. Then this week, I broke up the memorial… Again, waiting until I was ready. Never doing these things because I felt pushed – I didn’t. Thankfully, the people around me have always been patient and let me do these things in my own time and in my own way.
Then, something else happened this week… You would think by now I would have found anything of his still in this house. However, as I was cleaning out a drawer to one of the side tables (one that held his poker chips, a weather radio, and his camera – all things I still have used through the years), I decided these items should really go somewhere else. So, I pulled them all out. Then something in the back of the drawer caught my eye… It looked like a badly tarnished chain.
As I reached in and pulled it out, I realized it wasn’t one chain… It was Bruce’s other two necklaces. (He had one that was an anchor, which I have worn with our wedding rings added since the night he died.) However, these two were ones he had also worn through the years. One was a St. Joseph medal. I had given it to Bruce on our wedding day, since St. Joseph is the patron saint of families and fathers. The other one Bruce had bought in Belize when we were on a cruise… (Supposedly) It was his initials in the Mayan language. I can remember him laughing about it and saying he hoped that was what it was, but how would he know? I remember we spent the next few days laughing and making up what it might actually say instead.
To say, finding those two necklaces caught me by surprise would be an understatement. When I pulled them out, and realized just what they were, it quite literally took my breath away. I would swear I felt my heart stop in that moment as I found another piece of Bruce… Another something to remind me that he is really gone… That I am here alone… That I still hate this… That I am still a little bit angry… And I still miss him more than words can express.
Splitting up the memorial and tossing out those roses was the right change to make, and I think Bruce would have agreed. (Actually, he probably would have thought I should have done it a long time ago.)… Yet, there is also a part of me that believes, he let me find those necklaces this week, because with all the change going on around me right now, I needed to remember the gift of our marriage, and the joy and laughter we shared…
So, thank you, Babe! I love you!!
Thank you for the opportunity to share my story with you. Sometimes, this journey can feel like nothing more than a very lonely path, especially since it is so different for each of us. Yet, our love for those we have lost is something we all share. I believe the sharing of our stories is also important… I believe it is healing. Do you have a story to tell? I believe we can find courage and strength in one another’s stories. I believe we can offer each other empathy when we open our hearts to one another. I don’t know about you, but it makes me feel better knowing there are others out there who understand what I mean, and what I feel. It’s nice to know I’m not alone… Maybe this strikes a chord with you too. We would all love to hear your thoughts or your story. If you would like to share your experience or if you need a helping hand or maybe a virtual hug, let us know. We are here for you.
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