If you read the previous entry, New Beginnings Does Not Mean Forgetting, you know that life is changing for me.
The house, OUR HOME, goes on the market in a couple of weeks, which means having to go through every closet, drawer, and the dreaded workshop. And with that, comes going through the things that I kept of his initially, and things of ours, things that were important to us and our relationship, and make decisions about if I want those items in the new house and to carry over into the new relationship. It’s like letting go all over again.
Last week, I made myself go through the sympathy cards from his funeral. I had initially just shoved them all in a box. There were, literally, well over one hundred cards. It’s been four years, but it opened that wound a bit. Thankfully, I was on the phone with “him” while doing it, and that support was a gift. I probably wouldn’t have been able to do it otherwise.
Yesterday, I was going through the guest room closet, which we used as storage. That proved to be more difficult than the sympathy cards. His monogrammed luggage, a gift I gave him early in our marriage, was in there. Ah, the memories! Buried underneath a stack of old blankets were his straw sun hats. Athletic trainers are in the sun and have high instances of skin cancer, so he wore wide-brimmed hats the last several years to protect his ears. They were so buried under things that when I picked them up, his scent was there. After nearly four years, there it was: sensory proof that he lived, that he’d been here, that he was real. A double-edged sword. Looking forward to the future but having to go through the past all over again.
Thankfully, again, I was on the phone with “him” as I was going through it. And he gets it, give me space, and most of all, knows words are sometimes not necessary.
If I’ve learned anything through all of this it’s that I can let go of most of the material items, but the memories and our life together have formed me into who I am now, and made me ready for what it is to come. I don’t have to ever let go of those memories and I don’t ever want to.
This new chapter of life is exciting and scary, but letting go of another part of him is difficult, too. But that’s change, and change is uncomfortable and scary.
I was talking to a friend last week and he asked me if I was sure I could take this risk again, and risk loss again, because that risk is the scariest of all. My answer to him was that yes, I was sure. Because the thought of not having “him” in my life is even scarier. So, I’ll keep my late husband close in my heart and in my memories, but look forward to the future with “him”.