It’s Been Six Years, and I Still Haven’t Cleaned Out my Late Husband’s Closet

Shortly after my husband died, a trip to the mailbox yielded a stack of bills, all of which were addressed to Tim and Diane Nettles. That’s when it hit me. Oh, crap, now I’ve got to figure out what to do with these bills and that checking account and that whole budget for daily living thing. I realized that I was grieving the loss of my husband and best friend, but also the loss of the manager of the household budget.

And the person who made all our travel arrangements.

  And the chauffeur.

And the handyman around the house.

  And the keeper of the TV remote control.

And the car mechanic when my car battery died.

And the person who made all phone calls to fix the broken dryer, the aging air conditioning, and the noisy refrigerator.

And the person who knew the location to the main water valve to the house.

And the income tax filer.

Obviously, Tim did lots and lots of things to run our household. In fact, I think back on it now and wonder …. What in the heck did I do around here? Anything? Anything at all?

Yes, my life was pretty darn good.

Tim’s death created a huge hole in my life and in the lives of everyone in our family. Some of these tasks still wear me out, six years after his death.

That’s what happens when somebody dies. We discover the terrible ache of missing them as a person. We also discover the awful truth that we depended on them for so many things, and now that’s gone. When Tim died I was numb with grief. And now I had to figure out how to do an awful lot of things by myself. And I also had a constant, pervasive sense of fog in my brain. (Yes, “widow’s fog” is a real thing. It’s not pleasant.)

I discovered that there were a whole lot of things that I just didn’t want to do. (Heck, I didn’t even want to write this blog.) Yet, I had to learn how to do these things, because, after all, the garbage doesn’t take itself out. And, well, there’s that old saying, “The only sure thing is death and taxes.” I certainly learned the truth of that.

In my book, Grab Life by the Bungees and 50+ Other Ways to Find Humor, Hope, and Happiness After Your Partner Dies, I describe this truth in Chapter 5, called “I Don’t Wanna! How to Get your Affairs in Order.” In this chapter, you can learn some ideas for making life a tiny bit simpler, and maybe even more tolerable, during these awful days of grieving.

For example, I found out quickly that I needed more death certificates than I ever imagined I would need, and that they don’t come cheap. (So, my advice is to get more than you think you’ll need.)

And I learned to keep files on everything, and to ask for and write down the name of anyone I talked to who gave me information, advice, or direction. (So, I suggest keeping good records.)

And I learned that, while retail therapy feels good when shopping online on a lonely night at 2:00 AM, it led to lots of stuff I didn’t need and didn’t fit, causing me to spend money needlessly as well as twice as much effort returning loads of things to the store. (So, be careful about purchases that you think you want but don’t need.)

But I also learned how to do things I’d never done before.

My financial advisor helped me figure out a filing system for important documents and invoices, and gently reminded me that I don’t have to do everything the way Tim did it. Electronic banking works just fine for me. And now that his car is sold, I have room in the garage for a greenhouse I always wanted and a place to put the garbage cans (rather than outside, where I always thought they were kind of unsightly).

Would I rather have my husband back? Absolutely. But we all know that you don’t always get what you want. So I had to adjust, even though I didn’t want to.

Several years ago, our very steep and long driveway was in bad shape and needed a facelift. We debated on types and colors of concrete, but then Tim decided that it would be ridiculously expensive to rip up the entire driveway and start over with regular concrete. He decided that we could use those little river rock pebble stones as a cover up for the concrete that had cracks and pockmarks in it. It worked well for a little while, but as time went on, sealing it and maintaining it became a problem. We couldn’t even find a company to agree to sealing it for us.

After Tim died, that darn driveway became what I thought was an eyesore, as well as a safety issue. It took a couple of years, lots of phone calls and recommendations from friends I trust, a slew of estimates, and wrangling with contractors during the pandemic, to finally get it replaced with --- just regular concrete. So, I’ve decided that pebble stone driveway may have been the only unfortunate financial decision Tim ever made. But it gave me the opportunity to learn about being persistent, being patient, and yes, being a little bit more independent at a tough time. I saved a piece of that river rock driveway as a reminder that mistakes can, indeed, teach us a few things. I might be the only person on the planet who has saved a piece of driveway as a cherished memento.

And, I have come to realize that I did, indeed, contribute in valuable ways to our household. I began teaching both of our sons to read and write when they were in preschool. I read books to them every night, well into their middle school years. I cooked every meal. (Well, except for the ones that I called for delivery. And sometimes I gave myself credit for those.) I planted lots of flowers on our patio, making our home look cheerful and beautiful.

Thus, while I depended on Tim to do lots of things, he depended on me as well. That’s how a marriage --- and a family --- works. And it feels good to remember that.

Yes, I still need to clean out his closet. Last week, I read an announcement from my church, indicating a clothing drive was underway. That gave me the incentive to at least get it started. I tackled part of it, and wow, it was painful. It took two days, but in the end, I drove to the church on Saturday with bags and bags of very nice men’s clothing that can now be put to good use. That felt good.

I still have all of his ties, his old football referee uniform, and a cowboy hat.

But, I have more than half of a closet to use for whatever I want. Maybe next week I’ll clean out the other half.

It’s going to be one small step at a time, and that’s ok.