I cleaned out Shawn’s socks and underwear from our dresser yesterday. Maybe it was more out of frustration than really feeling “ready”. Last week I was told that some people have a perception that “enough is enough” and it is time to be moving on with the grief process. This news sent me into a downward spiral. I find it odd that other people feel obliged to inform me when I have sufficiently mourned my husband. Who becomes the expert qualified to decide what is adequate to heal a heart? Especially if one has not walked this journey themselves, I find it difficult to trust their judgement.
Maybe it was obligation or compulsion that pressured me to deal with the sock drawer. Maybe I felt required. Maybe it was spite. Whatever the coercing force, I found it to be sadly uneventful. I waited for tears to fall and none came. Maybe there aren’t enough emotions connected to socks. I have to admit, I purposely chose something that seemed the least threatening to my mental state.
The most significant emotion that arose within me yesterday, took me by surprise. I felt guilty. I felt guilty to clean out Shawn’s side of the dresser and selfish to use this new space. I felt uncomfortable and greedy. I felt guilty that he died and I lived.
It became obvious to me during the sock experiment that I am not ready to tackle the closet. I like sharing it with him. I am not ready to give that up. We have been forced to give up an entire life with Shawn and him with us. Why rush the separation? It may be "enough" for some, but I don’t feel the same. For me, the process seems to have just begun.
