2025 was a hard year. Really hard.

Started that year with my own health scare while Jim’s issues began to escalate. So many doctors, scans, xrays, labs for both of us. Things changed drastically for Jim in May and then I got shingles (but I did get good news on my scare, so that was taken off the table). Those next five months were filled with urgent calls to doctors and several ER visits while trying to get someone – anyone! – to actually listen to what we were dealing with and act on it. That didn’t happen until mid-September. A week in the hospital. A procedure, a surgery, a discharge to home. And less than 36 hours later he was gone.

Five months have passed – with two months into a brand new year … and some guilt has decided to pay a visit. Guilt for finding some joy in adding color back into my life and some guilt for all of Jim’s things that are leaving this house.

My life these days is filled with cleaning out stuffed closets and drawers and storage cabinets. Throwing away old papers from his many years in the Air Force, taking down the many awards and recognition plaques he received, tossing old medical records into the ‘to be shredded’ box, moving old linens to the garage sale pile. I’ve enjoyed reading some of the old things but it feels like I’m erasing him from our home.

I didn’t do this kind of clean out after Vern died. I just could not remove any of his stuff, so it sat there in the drawers and closets for years.

So why am I able to do it now?

Well, I’m not doing this because I want to … but because I have to. Jim’s son is anxious to pick up the Harley and cargo trailer, along with all of the photos, memorabilia and anything special belonging to his parents. And I really do understand that. But it’s hard going through all of these things so soon after Jim’s passing and that’s when my heart begins to hurt and a bit of guilt finds its way in.

Perhaps I’m able to do all of this because I’m 15 years older than I was when Vern died. I can now see/feel my own ‘finish line’ on the horizon and I don’t want to leave these things undone. I know the clearing out, giving away, throwing away and relinquishing is necessary so I will push through it and know it will be good in the end.

It’s also different because I’m the second wife and most of these things I’m going through were not part of my life with Jim. So I’m not comfortable tossing or donating some things in case they might have a special meaning for his sons. So those things are being boxed up and placed in the guest room for his son to go through when he arrives.

None of this eases my grief, but taking a moment to reminisce just a bit helps.

Jim and I had a good life – even though we only had seven years. Our first year together was spectacular with a three week trip to Okinawa where he spent many years with the Air Force. We used the RV regularly to explore Nevada and I got my first visit to beautiful Lake Tahoe. We attended Vegas Golden Knights hockey games and Jim assisted me with one of my local Soul Restoration Retreats (he handled the cooking!). He volunteered with me at a Camp Widow in Tampa and we traveled to Michigan, Minnesota and Indiana to see friends and family. All in that one year.

Then Covid arrived and we just settled in at home. Thankful for that huge tv and access to all sorts of channels, so we managed quite well. After surviving being stuck at home 24/7 for so long, Jim convinced me we should get married – so we did, in our backyard. I didn’t realize it at the time, but he later said it was important to him that I get on his VA insurance so I could keep it after he was gone. And I am so very grateful for that.

I miss Jim. He made me laugh nearly every day and we talked about anything and everything. It’s just so quiet now. Some days that is exactly what I need … but sometimes the quiet is overwhelming.