A couple of days ago I got a call from a woman who’d lost her husband about a year before Don passed away. Her husband and mine had a lot in common. Both had strokes in the same time frame that left them right side paralyzed and with extreme language disorders. They both worked hard at therapy and had positive attitudes. The four of us attended speech therapy classes together two days a week for several years plus we did a little socializing with the entire class of eight as well. You get to know a lot about another couple when you go through something like that and it didn’t surprise me when my friend said that she still cries almost every day. Widowhood is hard.
After that phone call I couldn’t help wondering why I’m not crying every day. At a widowhood support site I go to on occasion, other women further out than I am report the tears are still coming frequently. I decided it was partly due to the fact that I’ve been keeping myself insanity busy. Busy with downsizing Don’s stuff and daydreaming about what I want my next transformation to look like. I’ve turned my sun porch into a sort of hope chest; squirreling things in the corners that will fit the new décor of the condo I hope to buy next year. The antique gas pumps in Don’s collection are up for auction right now---the last of the big things to go---and his sign collection is gone. I did keep one sign from the bus company his father started back in the 1920’s. A beach cottage décor can always use a sign or two.
My speech class friend still has her husband’s clothing hanging in the closet. Hearing that made me so glad I bit the bullet early on and cleaned the closet out of all but a half a dozen of Don’s shirts. Maybe walking by a closet full of your deceased husband’s clothing keeps you from moving forward? I don’t know, but all widows have a hard time with closet purging. I had a hard time, that’s for sure. I blogged two entries about the process but looking back, for me, it was the right thing to do at the right time. Still, it seems to me the widows who are still crying daily after two years are the ones who haven’t dealt with their husband’s clothing. But could this be the classic question of which came first---the chicken or the egg? Do they cry daily because the clothes are keeping them struck in the beginning stages of grief or is the daily crying an indication of a deep depression that is preventing them from purging the closet?
I don’t have a good ending for this blog entry so I’ll just share the fact that my beautiful dog now has green feet. I made the mistake of taking him out to run in the back yard just after the grass had been cut. It was still wet from morning dew and it stained his white paws up high enough so it looks like he’s wearing socks. I know how to get grass stains out of clothing but I don’t know how to get it out of Schnauzers which just goes to show that no matter how old you get there is always something new to google. ©