Old photos packed up to make room for new memories ... but it still hurts

Photos of MFH and I from my mantle, some being packed away. This hurts. But needs to be done.

I felt like a bad wife today. It’s weird to feel that way since I haven’t been a wife since Aug. 10, 2021, the day My Favourite Husband (MFH) died.

My grief counsellor was the first to gently break it to me. The whole “till death do you part" portion of my vows had been activated. Although I could and can refer to myself however I like, technically I’m not anyone’s wife. 

After four years, I’ve gotten comfortable with my widowhood. Comfortable with my single status. Sometimes I get twinges of guilt when I make decisions I feel like MFH would disagree with but since I’m the only one accountable, I work through them and make my peace. Doesn’t mean some of them aren’t hard but, right or wrong, they are my decisions to live with. 

What generally gets my gut twisting are the emotional decisions. It was hard donating his clothes. It was hard giving away his cellphone and selling his half-ton truck.

 

Today was a gut punch day, too. Today, I took some our travel pictures off the fireplace mantle and tucked them away. 

There were about 10 different photos in fun, silly frames. Pictures of us on holidays. Moments where we were laughing and smiling and so fucking happy. Pictures that captured places and times in the history of our marriage. They might’ve stayed on that mantle forever except I was looking for a place for the two ceramic pottery women I purchased in Portugal. I thought I could squeeze them into a mantle space but, as I was moving the pictures to dust, I realized there was no extra space. If I wanted the women to live there, I’d need to make room. As I moved the frames — San Francisco, Las Vegas, Puerto Vallarta, Disneyland, us on my 40th birthday — I slowly set them on my loveseat. Dusting complete I had a decision to make: put them back or put them away? I knew it would hurt no matter what I decided. 

If I put them away, was I putting away yet another part of our marriage? Was I ignoring MFH, putting distance between him and I? Was tucking away memories of us wrong? Am I a horrible human being for doing this?

But if I put them back, was I doing a disservice to the woman I’m trying so hard to become?

Am I a bad wife? I felt like it. I felt like it but only for a bit. For once, I didn’t overthink it. For once, I didn’t cry or whisper apologies and look skyward to offer silent reassurances that I haven’t nor will I ever forget about our life together. I simply smiled, a mixture of happy and sad. I decided that as much as I will honour that life, I need to acknowledge my life now. Both deserve respect and love.

I decided to select two pictures to stay on the mantle. One is a shot of the ocean in Santa Cruz. MFH loved our vacation there and this photo was one of my very favourite photos ever. The second is a photo of us on the beach in Ixtapa/Zihuatanejo. It was a great vacation — not the best but a good one. But I love how we look in the photo — relaxed, happy — and there’s just something about it that truly captures who we were. 

My mantle looks empty without the photos. Impersonal. There are a few small antiques and knick-knacks but, unless you know their history, they could be anything from anywhere.

But as impersonal as it looks, it’s no longer a shrine to my past life. It's a mantle with items from my whole life.  

I’m not a bad wife. I’m a strong, confident woman who knows her story and has gratitude for all of it.