This last week has been transforming, cathartic, sad, grieving, digging up soil that hadn’t been turned yet . . . turning up items of Mike’s that I’d stuffed in drawers – till later. I had shelves and rods installed in the master closet a week ago. Which meant I had to empty the closet. This also meant that I had to go through everything in the closet. No more waiting. As I put things away, I cried, wishing Mike were here. I’m washing lots of clothes as I sort through it all – what to keep, what to pass on. Cleaning. Clearing. Working in my closet. Seems like inner work to me. Feels like it, too. Lots of greiving. Changing the inside as I change the outside.
After a week plus of closet work, I found myself drawn to clean out my email in and out boxes. My inbox messages had been filed a couple months ago, but I had not cleared the outbox since before Mike passed on. I found emails I had sent to him and a few from him – more dipping into the depths of what was. . . that is no longer. I cried and pushed the delete button on the emails. There’s no deleting him from my heart.