Cleaning Out the Closets

By: Bea Lewis (Lancaster)

Is it crazy that I didn’t want to clear out Ed’s closet? After all, wouldn’t any woman want an extra closet, so she wouldn’t have to stuff all her clothes and shoes into just one small space?

It took me about 6 months before I could even think about it. As long as I could see Ed’s jackets and slacks lined up so neatly – hanger–by-hanger – in his closet, I felt connected to him.

A friend told me that there are many men who would benefit from having some of his sweaters, his dress slacks and sports jackets. It’s sort of selfish, she said, to hang onto his belongings-especially those lovely, colorful Tommy Bahama shirts he so loved to wear.

My friend was right, but I just wasn’t ready to empty out his closet. Because if I did, I would have to face the harsh reality that Ed was gone-forever. And frankly, I didn’t think I could ever pass his empty closet without feeling terribly sad and missing him all over again.

Some friends, who are fellow-widows, cleared their husbands closets within days of the funeral. I know others who asked their relatives to do the job for them.

Still others – actually one other friend – told me that she felt safe whenever she sat on the floor of her husband’s closet, and smelled his clothes. At the time, I thought she was a bit weird. But who am I to judge anyone else’s timetable for getting past the oh-so-grim grieving stage.

Deciding when to do this job is akin to standing on the edge of a diving board, but not quite ready to jump into the pool. It’s that heart-pounding, fearful feeling that you know you have to do it, but what you really want is to turn around and go down the ladder and get safely back on the ground.

What motivated me to finally tackle this painful chore was the fact that friends were coming to visit, and I needed to make room for their belongings. This was my long-overdue incentive to at least get started, and begin to take the slacks and shirts off the hangers and the sweaters and sweatshirts out of his drawers.

But what if I give one of his favorite sweaters away, and then later regret that I should have held onto them for a little bit longer? How could I so freely toss out his navy blue cashmere, double-breasted jacket that he proudly wore at our grandson’s bar mitzvah?

I must say, however, that there were a few items I was glad to toss out. For example, that his too-tight-fitting black shirt, which I absolutely detested. I used to think that he wore it just to annoy me. (Oh, how I’d love to have that “annoyance” back again!) I was also glad to get rid of the flashy ties he loved to wear, and-oh yes-the frayed jeans that were so baggy in the rear.

Grief counselors tell us that the process can be agonizing because each little item we toss out signals memories of when and where it was worn. But several friends – who had been there before me – offered some suggestions that helped me cope with this most stressful experience. For example, before you being to sort and toss, get several boxes, permanent markers and garbage bags, they advised. Mark one box “donations,” another box for items your family will treasure and plenty of garbage bags for all the junk that accumulated over the years.

There will be, of course, some things that you will never want to part with. For example, I will always cherish the letters and cards we gave each other over the years. Ed had saved them in a box that he kept on a shelf in his closet. (From time to time, I would take these out of the container, read our inscriptions, and-with a bunch of tissues-have myself a good cry.)

Ed’s closet might be empty now, but my heart will be always filled with the wonderful memories of the things we did together, what we meant to each other, as well as all of the clothes that he used to wear.

(P.S. Bea is writing a book on her journey through widowhood.)