Don’t Call me a Widow–– Part 16

Loose Ends

Letting Go!  Letting go of “things” is never simple. This morning I read a post from a newly widowed woman who had packed up her husband’s clothes, only to tuck the boxes into the back of the closet because she wasn’t ready to let them go. I understand that completely. Purging isn’t easy unless you’re truly ready.

For nearly 42 years — through three moves and several rounds of downsizing — I wanted to clear out so many of the things we accumulated, especially the items Rich saved that were gathering dust or growing mold. He tried to purge over the years, but letting go was hard for him. His attempts, though sincere, barely made a dent. I’ve managed to let go of a lot, and still my closets and garage overflow.

But here’s what I’ve learned: what I’ve donated, sold, tossed, or given away does not define my husband. They were just objects, not the things that carry his imprint. When I donated his suits and dress shoes to Volunteers of America, I didn’t feel sadness — I felt hope. I imagined some deserving, portly gentleman enjoying those suits Rich hadn’t worn in a decade.

His everyday clothes still hang in his closet. I’m not ready to empty it, and I want Alex to have the time to look through them and decide if anything speaks to him. Realistically, Rich’s style isn’t Alex’s, but meaning doesn’t always follow fashion. If something resonates with him, it should be his choice.

What I have released is the clutter — the McDonald’s receipts, the decades-old airline tickets, the little scraps of life Rich held onto for reasons I’ll never know. Keeping those things wasn’t part of my healing. What has been healing is surrounding myself with photos — Rich, Alex, Steve, my parents, my in-laws — creating a space that feels like my signature, my circle of love.

Widows often ask, “When am I supposed to…?” And the truth is: there is no supposed to. But we also have a responsibility to the people who loved our spouse too. Children, parents, grandchildren — they deserve the chance to connect with the things that help them heal. Just because I was Rich’s wife doesn’t mean everything he owned belongs solely to me. He made it clear he wanted me cared for, but he also wanted his boys to choose anything of his that mattered to them. And he never once referred to Steve as anything other than his son.

I’ve purged alone, and I’ve purged with Alex and Steve — with more to come. These moments have given us space to reflect, to share stories, to create new memories for the days ahead. I encourage you to do the same: let the stories of the past weave into the fabric of your life today. Let the emotions — the tears, the laughter — meet you where you are. Let them heal the wounds that loss has carved.

In Part 14, I mentioned the migraines I’ve been battling. When one of those chronic headaches hit, Rich always knew when I was truly down for the count. He wasn’t a natural caregiver, but if I asked, he sprang into action. Yesterday, as I lay in bed with medication failing me, I let myself feel his energy. Just as his love helped me push through the pain in the past, it comforted me again. I reminded myself to relax, breathe, and let the pain ebb and flow until it finally loosened its grip.

This morning I woke up feeling hungover from days of pain. So, I did what Rich would have told me to do: I reached for my new ice cap, sipped the caffeine I desperately needed, and let the cold soothe the throbbing.

Yesterday was a day for healing. Today I’m easing back into life — a little work, a few errands, a visit with a friend. The chronic pain is still with me, but I’m using my tools, my strength, and my resilience to live my day.

Please join me on my journey

#YesICan Coaching with Karen
Email: Kh.yesican1@gmail.com