Peace, Love and Grief… Sometimes It’s the Little Things

Usually I start thinking through this blog early in the week, so by the time I sit down to write, most of it just flows. This week was no different, until this morning… when things changed…

After Bruce passed, it took a while to change anything in this house. It was four months before I could give any of his things to other family members. Several more months before I could actually rearrange things in the house or sell his truck… A year before I could clean out his closet and chest of drawers… And well over a year before I managed to finish all the legal paperwork…

I know there are those who jump right in and get all these things done right away – like ripping off a bandage, I am told. But not me… I couldn’t do it like that. For me, it became (and still is) a process.

It may sound ridiculous, but in the beginning, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was all just a bad dream. I just needed to hang in there until I could wake up. Then, Bruce would come home and all would be as it was. I couldn’t get rid of or move anything… I had to be “good.” I had to be patient. I had to leave everything as it was. Then, everything would be okay.

As crazy as this may sound, I am told it is not unusual… The denial I was experiencing was a normal response to the shock and trauma of the whole event.

But even after reality set in, there was another part of me that felt like I was “erasing” Bruce’s very existence every time I transferred something into my name, sold something or gave away anything.

I remember clearly the day I went to finish the last of the paperwork changing the last few things from Bruce’s name to mine. With two wonderful friends by my side, I cried as I signed the final paper work making everything so real… so final.

I also remember the day I finally went through Bruce’s things – deciding what to keep and what to give away. Another dear friend came and sat with me – asking about memories and freely giving hugs throughout the afternoon. It was a hard process, but (so far) I haven’t regretted any of the choices I made that day with her support.

This week held two more of “those” experiences. The first one was early in the week…

Since the night he died, I have worn Bruce’s necklace with a small, silver anchor and his wedding ring hanging from it. At some point in the second year, I added my wedding ring to the chain, as well, and have worn these day and night without fail… Their constant presence near my heart brings me comfort.

Earlier this week, I noticed that somehow one side of the anchor had bent. I was devastated. In an effort to repair it myself, I only managed to make it worse initially, and the tears started immediately… It was crazy… Here I am four years later, and the idea of losing this tangible piece of “us” was more than I could handle. I finally managed to fix it, but then I had to decide – Do I keep wearing it? What if it happens again and is beyond repair? Do I tuck it away to protect it or do I continue to wear it for as long as possible?…

I have chosen to wear it (at least for now)… The comfort I feel while wearing it is too great to hide in a drawer…

The second experience happened this morning and took me a bit by surprise. It started a couple of months ago, when I gave away Bruce’s original bed frame and mattress set to a neighbor. I thought it was going to be hard to watch it go, but I was fine.

We were giving it away to make room for my grandson’s new bed… part of turning the guest room into a room for a seven-year-old boy. I knew Bruce would rather his little Boudreaux had his own space versus me hanging onto a bed set simply for the sake of memories. To be honest, I don’t even know the name of the people who took it, only that they live around the corner… And that is fine. I haven’t regretted that decision at all.

Armed with the strength from that decision and the knowledge that I have needed to replace our master bed mattress set for quite a while, I decided to bite the bullet. Since I have been (passively) looking at mattresses for over a year, I knew what I wanted… I was only procrastinating because the current set had been ours.

So Saturday morning, I woke up, showered and headed to the store – fully confident in my decision. In less than an hour, I had made my purchase and arrangements for delivery this morning…

But this morning, I woke up feeling sad… overwhelmingly sad. Was I really ready for this? After all, this was the space where Bruce held me for the last time… Where we kissed for the last time… Where I held him as he took his last breath…

As I write this, it is hours later. The old mattress set is gone… The new one is in place, and the bed made up. I haven’t laid on it yet,… but I will. I know this change was necessary, and I’ll be okay… But right now, I just feel a little sad…

Through the years, I have come to realize sometimes it’s the seemingly inconsequential, small things that can shake your world without warning…

For most of us, the grief journey is a hard one. Learning to let go of the things… the tangible reminders of our loved ones can be hard… even years later. If any of this sounds familiar, there are many of us here with you… you are not alone. If you have found a positive way through this, would you be willing to share your story or thoughts? To do so, go to the comments and leave a note. *

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