At some point I need to take care of Joe's things that are still in our bedroom. Yes, I know, many of you will be like "What??!!! You haven't done that already?", and the answer to that is no. However, it is quite common according to what I've been told in my grief group and other widows to not have done this yet.

Basically what I am specifically talking about is his bureau and the piles of clothes around it (his laundry that had not been taken care of) that are on the floor. I guess I am also talking about his closet though I keep those doors closed and don't think about that too much.

I've gone back and forth.....at first it was just way too difficult and overwhelming to think about moving/going through his clothes. I didn't want to force it. As the months went by I just started hoping that at some point I might want to do it and that at that time it might not be so painful. And now....well I feel kind of like I want to but I am still a little scared about it.

I think about my kids and what they think about their daddy's stuff still being right there on the floor. They don't say anything to me about it...and maybe kids just don't even consciously see that stuff. But sometimes I worry that it sends the wrong message....especially to Alyssa.....that her daddy might be coming back and need those things.

Last weekend I opened up his sock drawer and tucked in the side was a picture of me. Joe and I lived in a few places together before we lived in this house and everywhere we lived he always kept that same picture of me in his sock drawer. I took it out and looked at it for a minute and felt a deep sting of sadness.....but as I stood there and held it for a few more seconds I just felt loved.

It's funny the things that we hold on to and that have meaning to us. I have every item that Joe owned, all different things that could seem meaningful. But honestly, I have one thing that I've carried around with me since the day of the accident. It is a bottle cap, from one of the last beers he opened. For whatever reason I picked it off the counter at my house and put it in my pocket. I put it in my bag and it's been there (and I've keeping track of it, making sure not to lose it) for the last 10 months. When I see it, it reminds me of him in a nice way. Weird, I know.