Day 72

It's been 72 days without Mike.
I've been through the funeral, the social security system, all the paperwork and it still doesn't feel right. I've lived through Mike's birthday and all the emotions and feelings of celebrating without him. This morning, the thought of cleaning out some of his things flashed across my brain.
Fuck. The guilt is unbelievable. I saw on Dr Phil (don't judge me, I watch him) that the amount of time you spend grieving after someone dies does not correlate to how much you love them. But still, the thought of touching his things still bothers me. His toiletry case still sits in the bathroom, his nightstand the way he left it, and a whole closet full of clothing sits untouched. I still sleep on only my side of the bed as if he's going to lay down and complain about me taking over his side. His laptop bag stills in the office, as if it's waiting for him to take it to work. Eventually, these things will have to be gone through and find a new home. What bothers me the most, is the wedding pictures, the family pictures, the furniture that we bought together. These things were timeless to me once, and now the thought of them not being on my walls in 20 years scares the shit out of me.
Someone at some point in the last 72 days has said to me "You'll remarry and eventually you're life will go on"
At the time, it was like lava in my belly. How dare they? My life isn't going to go on...my husband is dead for fucks sake. It's not like going the pound and getting a puppy after your dog dies, this was the man I was supposed to grow old with. And now I'm stuck without him and dealing with stupid people like you on my own.
But here I am, 72 days into being a widow, and the reality is I will go on. Because that's what Mike would want. He would tell me to throw his crap out and go on vacation or get drunk and live life to the fullest. He literally told me this once, when we talked about what to do if he passed.
I start tossing around the idea of moving, to give myself a reason to have to clean out his stuff. But the thought of leaving my home scares me even more. Mike drove a company vehicle that was returned to his company after his passing and besides his clothing and trinkets, the only tangible thing I have to remember him by is this house. The day we moved in is still fresh in my mind, the holidays, the birthdays, the everyday life in this house is a constant reminder of the love and life we had. So for now, I will stay in my bubble of a house and maybe get rid of his things slowly. Rebuilding our lives and remembering what an amazing man he was and will always be.