Ruby said I needed to get rid of the clothes in Robert’s closet. She got rid of her husband’s almost immediately after he died. She couldn’t bear looking at them anymore. I don’t blame her for that, but that was just not me.
I closed the door on Robert’s closet and hardly opened it for a year. I decided the jeans and plaid shirts were fine there. (Maybe in the twisted thinking I did during that time, I thought if he ever needed them again, they’d be waiting.)
I knew better, but I just felt comfort in having them around. They stayed in that closet for about three years. I gave our sons whatever they wanted, like a denim jacket or a windbreaker, but the rest remained tucked away for a long time. They were not bothering anybody and I like knowing they were there.
Once or twice I remember going to Robert’s closet and sniffing at the clothing inside. They smelled of leather from the boots on the floor and maybe a faint residue of cigarette smoke from some jackets. The scents consoled me. But mostly I just ignored the closet.
Two comforting reminders of Robert, though, I kept out in view were his fancy dress boots that had danced me many a mile, and his sweat stained Stetson work hat. I perched the hat on the bedroom TV, and put the boots on the floor on his side of the bed, as if he’d just dropped them there.
These reminders became so familiar I ceased to notice them. They were just a part of my life as much as the bed we bought for our twentieth anniversary and the night table with the phone and a stack of books on my side. I didn’t dwell on them, but I didn’t hide them either. Not for over a year. The hat and boots were my crutch, and they helped me along the grief journey. Eventually, I realized I had moved on and no longer needed or wanted them as decoration for my bedroom. They had served their purpose.
Please share what helped you successfully pass the mileposts on your grief journey. What has made life a little easier for you?
