I have often wished there was a grief timeline. I am very much a visual person. I love to have lists and still use an old school planner. I have wished for this timeline, a specific date on the calendar, not because I want to get over Matt, but because I just want to know when I will be a bit less fragile, a bit less scatterbrained, a bit less teary over quiet reminders of him I see everyday.
If you know me, you know I am my own worst critic. I tend to hold myself to a standard I would not hold for anyone else. It’s the way I am wired, and as I have grown older I am very much aware and working to be a bit nicer to myself. I often tend to equate my fragility as weakness and I know I am not weak.
I’m a bad ass. I have changed tracheotomy tubes and drained chest catheters without formal training. I have flown my kids by myself halfway around the world for a spring break trip. I’ve managed to keep my life and my kids’ lives going despite the ultimate tragic event. But as I hear a certain song or hear the twinkling of Matt’s wind chimes and get teary, I have to remind myself that I’m not weak, I’m not fragile, no one is keeping track of my grief or how long I may grieve or when tears may occur but me. I have to be a bit kinder to myself. Tears and fragility mean I experienced a great, beautiful love and there is nothing embarrassing about that.
So as I move into a new home, I’m again having an internal struggle about what to bring with me and what to donate and what to give to Matt’s family - what is right and wrong to do as a moving widow? I don’t think I realized the enormity of the feelings I was having until yesterday. My friend and I were moving clothing over. I had things of Matt’s hanging in my current office closet- a Topeka West letter jacket, his first Doctor’s white coat, a few suits that may fit Cooper someday.
The new home has an office with a full bath inside it. I guess you could say it’s an extra bedroom or it’s a place where you can check email, pay bills and take a shower. Multi-functional. I went to hang these items in the new closet and realized there wasn’t a clothing bar, only built in shelving. I immediately burst into tears. Not because I wanted Matt’s clothes in that closet but because I felt terrible that I didn’t want them hanging in my new closet in my bedroom.
It feels selfish. It feels rude. It feels uncaring. I’m moving into a new home by selling a home that he bought. I’m ungrateful. But it’s also a new space, my space and my peace and my healing. A new chapter for the three of us. In a new home like Matt wished for us. My friend suggested I go and talk with him. I drove to the cemetery and sat at his grave in silence to think.
As I sat there in the stillness of the afternoon, I remembered that just because I don’t want the things in my closet doesn’t mean I didn’t love him deeply. I am still learning to separate the tangible items from the memories. The memories are forever and the rest is just stuff. Giving the stuff a new home is no correlation to my love for this man. The love for us will be forever in our hearts and not in the bins of trophies and radiology books and photographs.
No one is keeping tabs on how I handle grief. Hell, there is no playbook or right or wrong on how to handle it. I can only do what’s best for me, and know that what is best for me may not be what’s best for anyone else. I actually told one of my customers this morning that I was moving and it has brought up a lot of emotions. This customer is a regular and with complete sincerity, he said to me, "You have been through so much. You deserve to have a full life. Now, go live it!".
So, as we move into a new space, and keep on building the legacy of our lives, I know that somedays may be teary and somedays will be joyful and both are okay. Both are right. I’m looking forward to having conversations with Matt on our new patio, listening to the twinkle of his wind chimes, watching his special tree grow (you know I had to put that in my contract for the new buyers- that tree goes no matter what), and watching the family of cardinals that lives right outside our new home. We are going to go live it. Thank you, Mattie.
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