Living Again Starts With A New Room
Living Again Starts With A New Room

Living Again Starts With A New Room

Today, I was having lunch with some friends who I hadn’t seen in well over a year, and I mentioned that I had finally gotten Grubby’s “man cave” pretty well cleared out (and yes, I did say “finally” in bold italics for emphasis!), and that I’m making it my space now. One of them said he imagined it would be difficult to have to go through your spouse’s stuff, and it occurred to me that it really hadn’t been too bad overall. But, then again, I still have a LOT of stuff to get rid of (golf clubs or scuba tanks anyone?).

I also realized that Saturday was officially 42 months out from that awful February day in 2021, and it passed like any other day. I didn’t even note the date until today. Four years ago, if someone had told me I would be a widow who adopted Abby, and I would actually be okay, I would have shrugged it off as a bunch of crazy talk. Clearly, they didn’t know me that well. And yet…

So, as I thought about the clearing out of stuff on my way home, I realized that I was pretty methodical in when I chose to start letting go of Grubby’s stuff. It took me a year to start going through his clothes, and when I did, I had the help of a dear friend – one who said, “If you decide you’re not ready, just say the word and we’ll stop and save it for another time.” I didn’t stop, and for two straight days, we went through his side of the closet and dresser boxing up the hundreds of t-shirts (okay, maybe not hundreds, but it was up there that’s for sure!) that he collected over the years.

After that, I did nothing else with anything of his until another seven or eight months had gone by, when I sold the Jeep and bought what would become Abby’s car, with her blessing of course. Then, six months or so later, just after the second observance of that awful day, I donated all of what had been our bedroom furniture and bought all new bedroom furniture. I rearranged the room completely because I thought I would sleep better. HA! I can’t say that it helped, but it definitely didn’t hurt.

Last summer, I asked Michael and Abby to go through the man cave and figure out what they wanted to keep of their dad’s stuff. Once that was done, I could set about the business of getting it emptied out and making it my space. Again, I waited until just the past couple of months to start emptying it, also with the help of some very dear friends. I’m sure I probably seemed cold to them as I said “pitch it,” “take it,” and basically said I didn’t want to keep anything. Funny though… when we came across his old Scubapro Dive Watch, although it has a dead battery, no way to hook it to a computer, and I have no real need for it, I held onto it. I just couldn’t let that go yet… maybe someday, but not today. For now, it is safely tucked away with a few other personal items that I kept.

I feel like this year – year four – I am finally beginning to live again, and part of that is releasing all of the “stuff”. I feel like I have taken each step when I was ready; at least as ready as one can be when you accept that the life you thought you were going to have isn’t the life you have. Ready looks different for everyone: some pack everything away immediately, some never pack anything away, and then, there are those of us “in betweens”. All of the golf clubs, scuba tanks, spare tires for a Dodge Charger (yes, I have two of those in one of the sheds, and no, we have never owned a Dodge Charger!), and old pictures and letters from years long passed aren’t Grubby. They didn’t identify him. They weren’t who he was, but remnants of what he liked to do. I’ve realized that in just a couple of years, Abby will be ready to spread her wings and fly away from here, and I am beginning to think about what then… where will I go, what will I do, and whether or not I really want to have 1500 square feet of shit to drag around with me. Grubby’s presence will always be felt in whatever home I live in because our lives were so entwined… he was the salt to my pepper, peas to my carrots, horse to my carriage… I won’t ever let him go completely. Who knows? Maybe someday, I’ll figure out how to make that old watch work and wear it around… at least it’s light enough and easy to move…

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