Robert died just over 10 months ago and I just yesterday boxed up some of his clothes.
When he first died, people from his facility and day program wanted a memento to remember him by and I was so touched by their requests. People wanted a piece of Robert because he meant so much to them.
I gave the Director of Nursing one of Robert’s Hawaiian shirts. A beloved staff member of Robert’s got one of his many 49ers hats. Robert’s lunchbox was given to his sweet day program administrator and she still sends me touching messages about how she often thinks of Robert during her lunch break. Robert’s bingo chips went to his lovely activity director.
We gave wonderful Pattae one of Robert’s 49er sweatshirts. We still keep in touch with Pattae and I send her caregiving jobs information when I get wind of them. How can I not keep in touch with Pattae?
Soon after Robert died, a friend’s dad fell on hard times and needed warm clothes. I boxed up a few of Robert’s sweatpants and shirts and gave them to her for her dad.
The rest have sat in Robert’s dresser drawers or in his closet. Shorts he stopped being able to wear years ago, PJs he wore when he lived with us (I still picture him wearing these long back-closure pjs pushing his walker down the hallway), camp shirts with the Velcro buttons – even his Velcro close shoes. I have a drawer full of t-shirts he got from day program events and for each year of Epilepsy Awareness Day. He has a couple of ties – a 49er one for game day (of course) and another he wore to our dad’s funeral.
We have his 49er blankets (yes, there are many) and dozens of reading glasses (I always had to have back-ups with me, in his room, in his go-bag – everywhere!). At least the glasses are now in a bag ready to donate to an organization that reuses frames and lenses.
I was able to box up his shorts, a pair of sweats, knee-hi 49er socks and a few of his camp shirts. He was particular about his shirts. They had to have a pocket so he could keep his glasses in them. They needed to be Velcro-close to make dressing easier (first, when he could dress himself, then for me when he couldn’t any longer and finally for the Skilled Nursing Facility staff when he lived there).
His red shirt still smelled like him. He loved that shirt and was in it often.
Grief shows up in different ways and there is definitely no timetable for it. No “normal” way to grieve. There is no “normal’ way to part with a deceased loved one’s things.
I recently read an article about this very subject in which Dr. Jason Singh explains that “getting rid of their things may feel like participation in their erasure.” I certainly don’t want to “erase” Robert and know that I won’t given our continued connections to those who loved him. Keeping those friendships reminds me how much joy Robert spread to everyone who knew him and how loved he was.
Keeping those connections is more meaningful than keeping his shoes but I don’t think I will ever be ready to get rid of all of his things. Heck, I still have some of my mom’s shirts and she died 27 years ago.
Do I have some hoarding tendencies? Sure. It’s not all bad, though! I am the person who people come to at work when they need a document from 25 years ago or wonder where our summer picnic was held in 2007 (a local bowling alley, in case you’re wondering).
Whether you dispose of or donate your loved one’s things soon after they are gone or you hold on to them for years (or something in between), know that you are doing exactly what is right for you.
There is no right or wrong when it comes to grief.
