The Stuff of Grief: Dealing with the Deceased's Possessions

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When Marge first spoke to me, she stated it was hard to cope with “the stuff of grief.” I thought I knew what she meant. I assumed she was dealing with all the emotional work that is often part of the journey of grief—the anger, the guilt, the loneliness, the sadness, and all the regrets.

I was wrong.

Marge was being very literal. She actually meant the stuff—all of her husband’s possessions and clothes; all the things that were in closets, drawers, and the garage; the bits and pieces of her husband’s life that bore a mute witness to her loss.

It is tough to deal with the “stuff of grief.” Each time we look at it, we are reminded of our loss. We receive so much advice: Some friends tell us to get rid of it, to clear everything out lest we are constantly reminded of our grief; others may even make subtle or not-so-subtle requests for items.

The first rule in dealing with the stuff of grief is that there are no rules. Each of us has to make our own decisions on what we choose to keep or what we choose to give away. One man in my support group shared that for him, opening an empty drawer that once was full of his wife’s clothes would be far worse than seeing her things. As in other situations of grief, there is no one way we should cope.

Nor is there a timetable. We should not tackle the stuff (if we choose to tackle it at all) in the first week, month, six months, or year. We should do it when it seems right—when we are ready.

If we do decide to clear out some possessions of the person we lost, we may need to consider another question. Should we do it alone? Again, there are no rules. For some of us, this needs to be done at our own pace. We may need to go slowly—stopping at times as we confront our memories and our loss. Others of us may welcome the support and assistance of family or friends.

This support may be especially necessary when we have no choice. In some cases, certain contingencies may mandate that we cannot use our own timetable. For example, when Paula’s mother died, Paula had but two weeks to vacate her parent’s apartment.

When and if we do it, it helps to create systems. My dad was a person who saved everything. The basement was full of boxes that included World War II ration books and every check he wrote in his life. When we cleaned out the house, my brother, sister, and I decided to divide things into five categories.

The first were things that clearly could be discarded. These items had no value—symbolic or otherwise—to us. A second category was for things that we were unsure about, items we felt we should discuss as a group. Once discussed, a decision was made to place them in another category.

A third category was simply “not now.” We were not ready to make a full decision on what to do here. Maybe others would need to be consulted. Maybe we simply needed to wait a while. In the midst of grief, we realized we might not always make the best decisions. In such cases, there is reason to delay decisions.

A fourth category was for things we would donate or give to other individuals. We knew that my father’s grandchildren and friends would treasure certain items.

The last category was for things that each of us wanted to keep. One of the things we know about grief is that we never lose the memories; we retain the bonds even as they change in loss. Sometimes, though, it is nice to have items that hold those memories and comfort us.

For my sister, it is my Dad’s old flannel shirt. It brings her warmth and comfort during the long, cold winter of grief.