the closet

This morning as I sat quietly alone after reading my Bible and journaling
I looked at the things sitting in my room and hanging on my walls.
My eye was caught and held by the wall plaque that reads
"It is well with my soul" and I thought, amen, thankful for the reminder.
I wondered yet again at how it can be well with my soul
while my heart is sad.
Some mornings just start out that way.
I went on with what I needed to do, 
and the sadness dissipated by the time I came downstairs.

This afternoon I cleaned out my closet-for the 4th? 5th? time in 18 months.
Sorted through items on the shelf above my garments.
Reduced the shoe boxes of stuff by one.
Organized my totes and bags.
I feel like I have done more mindless sorting, 
and made more "unimportant" but hard decisions in the last 542 days*
than I ever considered making in the 20,169** days before then.
*the number of days I have been a widow 
**days from my birth until that day, 
thank you date calculator for doing the math

Near the end of the job Ruth joined me, sitting in my glider.
I decided to take advantage of her judgement.
"I bought these dresses for the trip your dad and I made to PCB," pause;
"keep or pitch?"
"They would be cute for the beach. Will you wear them?"
"I don't know."
So, driven by, nostalgia? being practical? hope? frugality?
back in the closet they go.

I glance right, but don't allow my eyes to linger,
where his suits, some dress shirts and a tote of belts, shoes and ties remain.
On the other side of the crates dividing my side from his.
Out of my usual line of sight.
Hidden.
Waiting.
For what?
I am not sure.
But when I figure it out, I will be making more choices.

It took 15 minutes, at most, 
to take all of my clothes out of the closet,
look at them, 
make a decision and be done.
How can that very un-physical job
make me feel wiped out, like I have tugged on and moved furniture,
scrubbed walls and woodwork, 
taken down, washed and rehung curtains
in every single room of my home?

This work of grieving is a long road and leaves me weary, 
more weary than I have been in any other time of life,
including when I had six children living at home.

It is unpredictable, always.

At times it is frustrating.
Sometimes it is daunting.
Other times I take it all in stride.
Occasionally I get impatient with myself.
Most of the time I remember to be gentle with myself. 
It can be frightening when I am caught up in an intense moment. 

I know it is something I must do for myself,

but I also know there is no way I could do it by myself.

I am thankful for those who are walking this road alongside me.

Quiet.

Caring.

Praying.

Present.

Reliable.

Available.

Supportive.

Encouraging.

Whether you are 

seen or unseen,

part of my daily life,

a rare visitor,

or in touch because you choose to send

a card, a FB message, an e-mail or a text,

every time you bring me and my family before the Father,

each time you let me know I am in your thoughts,

you are part of my healing.

I appreciate you.

 "Rejoice with those who rejoice; 

mourn with those who mourn."

Romans 12:15