Cleaning Out the Closet
what it felt like to clean out my deceased husband’s closet:
I sat cross-legged on the floor, staring into the darkness, unable to move toward the closet. My fingers traced the pattern of the rug, accumulating a tiny pile of crumbs and dirt next to me. I really should vacuum, I thought. It was typical to focus on the physical mess around me as a means to distract myself from the emotional turmoil.
I used to do the same thing when we’d get in fights. I’d throw out harsh words and then avoid further conflict by furiously washing the dishes until my hands were raw and burning from the hot water. Eventually, I’d calm down enough to continue the conversation, but only after I’d run out of things to clean. I understood the impulse - I spent my whole life busying myself to avoid confrontation.
I resisted the urge to grab the vacuum, determined to get through the task at hand.
Staring at the row of suits and dress shirts, it would have been unclear that Brad had died over a year ago.
Nothing had changed. Even his belt, which he casually tossed on top of the dresser, was unmoved. His closet was overstuffed with clothes, even though he wore the same uniform nearly every day - khaki pants and a button-down (light blue, light pink, or white - definitely no patterns). I leaned in and touched his dress shirts, pulling a sleeve up to my face. I inhaled deeply, searching for any trace of a scent that I knew had disappeared many months before.
I picked up the leather belt and traced the holes with my fingers, stopping at the worn-in notch, where he routinely wore his belt. When he got sick, the weight dropped so suddenly, he had to shift his belt hole multiple times. Eventually, I had to create a makeshift hole with a hammer and nail.
My face began to burn and I could feel the tears emerging. And then I saw them: the navy sweatpants we bought him when his other pants became too large - when his belt no longer fit. His “cancer” pants.
As heartache turned to anger, I grabbed the pants and shoved them into the empty plastic garbage bag.
They were the first to go.
Tips for Cleaning Out a Loved One’s Closet
I don't know about you, but when Brad died, the idea of cleaning out his closet felt like an insurmountable task. One that I avoided and avoided and... avoided some more.
The only reason it ever got done was because I made the bold - and somewhat rash - decision to move from the home we shared. And along with moving meant moving his stuff.
People often ask me how to do this task. One that if you are lucky enough to never have experienced, feels so simple. It's just stuff, right? Stuff that they are never coming back for - how hard can it be?
But that stuff represents so much more. And when you remove the stuff, you are acknowledging not only that they no longer need it, but also that they are, in fact, dead.
And sometimes we're just not ready to come to terms with that fact, so we continue to avoid.
But if you’re feeling motivated to tackle this task, grab your freebie guide below with tips that might make this emotional mountain just a little bit easier to climb.