My husband, Matt, died in May of 2023.  A few weeks before he died, he bought a new pair of work boots.   They were sturdy, expensive, boots for the vitrification plant where he worked.   

He wore them once. 

Then he died.

It is three years later, and I still have Matt’s shoes. 

In fact, I have a room that has many of his things.  And let’s not even start talking about the garage.  I don’t know what half of the stuff in there is.  Trust me, I once grabbed channel locks that I needed, only to realize they were pliers.  Then later I actually needed pliers and had no idea where to find them.

So here we are.  Our husband has died.  And in the middle of all this grief, these questions start popping into our head.

When do we clean out his closet? 

What do I do with his belongings? 

Will I regret getting rid of my husband’s things?

Just a friendly warning, people will start coming out of the woodwork with their opinions on what you should do. 

“Don’t do anything for one year!”

That’s the advice I heard the most. If I had a nickel for every time I heard that, I wouldn’t have been so sad about not having life insurance. 

Consider this article your permission slip. 

You don’t have to listen to anybody else’s opinions about what to do with your spouse’s belongings after they pass. 

This is your grief. 

This is your home. 

This is your decision.

Timelines have their purpose.  In grief, I have found they are much more fluid.  On the first anniversary, I wasn’t magically healed.  On the second, I wasn’t either. Even on the third, grief still found me. 

What has happened is healing.

I’ve found things that help me: therapy, community, purpose and expressing myself through creativity. 

Some mornings I wake up thinking, I just might have done it, I might be able to be the success I want to be despite my circumstance.  Other mornings I wake up yearning for the life I used to have in a way that is overwhelming.

Both things can be true. 

Just a reminder, you aren’t going to “get over” grief. 

You will learn to walk alongside it.

The chaos of Matt’s room is sometimes overwhelming.  On the days I feel the strength and motivation to go through his closet, I walk into his room and stand there and think,

“Where the heck do I start”. 

I give myself one simple goal.  Five things.  That doesn’t mean throwing away five items.  Just five things to make a decision about.

Sometimes they stay.  Sometimes they move.  Sometimes they go.

I lead a widow’s group that meets monthly.  Recently we were talking about this very topic, what we should do with our husband’s things.  

As we chatted, we realized something funny.  Several of us had already tossed some of our husband’s clothes that we just did not like.

Matt had this green shirt that was literally the worst.  That was one of the first things to be slam dunked into the trash can.

Honestly, I didn’t feel bad for one second.  And before you come for me, it was much too ugly to donate.

Now on the other hand, there are things that I cannot even consider getting rid of.  If an item is something that shouts Matt to me, I keep it hanging in the closet.  Not because I’m refusing to heal but because I am simply not ready. 

Some of the things I keep aren’t “valuable” at all.  In fact, if somebody was to come over to “help me” go through his things, they’d probably throw them out immediately (and then I’d probably be charged for assault). 

One day Matt found a rock at his work site that he thought looked like an alien face.  He was excited to show me this rock because he thought it was hilarious.  I laughed with him.

After he died, I found that little alien rock tucked into the pocket of his jacket. It lives there now.  To most, it’s just a rock.  To me, it’s Matt.

That’s the point, there are some things that bring comfort to your heart.  Some things don’t.  I started letting go of things that don’t bring me comfort.  The alien rock, it’s going to be here for a long time. 

Giving away something that belonged to your husband isn’t giving away his memory.  Keeping something that comforts you doesn’t mean you aren’t healing.

I’m not going to tell you what you should do and when you should do it.  It’s a question that only you can answer.  You have permission to do things on your timeline. 

If someone offers unhelpful advice, a simple “Thank you for your perspective” is enough.  If you are more colorful, that’s fine.  I’m not going to judge.

You don’t owe anybody an explanation. 

Your journey won’t look like mine.

It won’t look like another widow’s either.

You are allowed to do what is best for you.

Ironically, I think other widows give the most advice.  Because they struggled with these same decisions you are facing.  They know the isolation and loneliness that comes along with cleaning the closet.

If today is the day you want to go into his room and decide what to do with five of his things, good for you.  If today is the day you want to sleep with his shirt because that’s what your heart needs, then that’s ok too.  You never have to apologize for being on this journey.

Maybe next month I’ll give Matt’s shoes away.  Maybe next year.  Maybe not for a while.  I honestly don’t know.  What I do know is this.  There isn’t a right timeline for love.  There isn’t a right timeline for grief.  And today…

I still have Matt’s shoes.