The Oklahoman

Keep memories but make home your own

- Marni Jameson Guest columnist You can reach author Marni Jameson at marnijames­on.com.

“Everywhere I look, I see a life we built together.” I am on the phone with Bob Glockler, a recent widower. Like many who have lost a mate, he has a foot in two worlds: He wants to preserve and honor the memories of his late wife, yet also move forward to make the most of the rest of his life. He is 83.

“I suppose eventually I will look for some companions­hip,” he told me. “Whether we’re just friends, or move in together, or wind up getting married, who knows? Although I haven’t given it much thought, and it’s not something on the calendar, it’s not unlikely.”

Such is the push-pull of loss, and the struggle to find the way, any way, forward. Now I know this topic will make some of you want to jump to the sports section, but hang with me a minute, because this is a fact: If you are coupled up, and bonded till death do you part, you have a fifty-fifty chance that this will happen to you, and you’re going to want these pointers. I don’t care how young you think you are.

In last week’s column, I offered Mr. Glockler suggestion­s for how to transition his home from “ours” to “mine” tackling specific areas, such as their bedroom and her closet. This week, I consulted a profession­al organizer and senior move manager from Boston for tips on how bereaved partners can sensitivel­y and practicall­y disperse their late mate’s belongings. Nancy Patsios, 61, lost her husband to cancer 18 months ago, so also brings her firsthand perspectiv­e along when working with clients to sort through a lifetime of memories.

“It always startles me how different the process is for everyone,” she said. As we chatted, we came up with the following guidelines for those who’ve loved and lost:

Don’t try to meet anyone’s expectatio­ns for grief. It has no timetable. The pace and manner in which individual­s grieve is varied and personal. Only surviving partners know when they are ready to make changes in the home, Patsios said. “Some feel paralyzed, while others need to do tangible tasks to help them cope.” Don’t push the process, but try not to wallow, either.

2. Expect foggy thinking. “The brain fog is real,” said Patsios. “I could have stared out the window for hours without a thought in my head.” Don’t make any big decisions, including whether to move, too quickly.

3. Start with the easy stuff. When you’re ready, begin by getting rid of items you don’t need, love or use that slant toward the partner. For Patsios, that was easy. Her husband worked in property management, and often brought home gently used furniture. “We did not share that enthusiasm,” she said. “It was easy for me to get rid of what I didn’t want in the first place.” He also had lots of tools. “I don’t need seven hammers. I kept one.” Save highly personal items, like clothes and jewelry, for last.

4. View your décor through a new lens. I have often said that homes should reflect the lives of those who live there. They don’t need to reflect those who once lived there. While the desire to honor a lost loved one is normal, clinging to all their belongings is not the best way to do that. In Glockler’s case, I suggested he try to make his home more gender neutral by removing the feminine touches, like the crocheted doilies and floral pillows his wife had sprinkled around the house.

5. Consider your visitors. How do you want guests to feel when they come over? A home that is a shrine to your late mate will telegraph your sadness, and make guests feel sad, too. A home that has been appropriat­ely edited and tailored to your life now will put guests at ease by indicating that you are adjusting.

6. Capture the essence. Rather than leave your late loved one’s material presence all over the house, try to capture that person’s spirit through a few small objects. For instance, if your partner was a gardener, baker, knitter, or fisher, gather items that reflect those passions: a favorite trowel, a rolling pin, knitting needles or fishing flies. Then create a discreet vignette that represents the person, and let the rest go. For example, Patsios’ dad was a master tailor, and her mom was a seamstress. “I kept their thimbles,” she said.

7. Donate with purpose. The biggest impasse profession­al organizers run into is clients who say they don’t know what to do with the stuff they should let go of. “Part of that is emotional, but part is practical,” Patsios said. They don’t want to just throw something useful away. So she works to make sure items go to a cause clients feel good about: a church, a program for at-risk kids, an animal rescue. “When they know the items are being donated meaningful­ly, it softens the blow,” she said. When he’s ready, Glockler will donate his wife’s belongings to the hospice and hospital thrift stores she supported.

8. Make choices now, while you’re in control of your decisions. Leaving clear instructio­ns about what you want done with your belongings later will spare your partner the headache, and let you “move forward gracefully.” Patsios said. “So after you’re gone, they don’t just pull a big Dumpster onto your driveway.” Of his wife’s death, Glockler said, “it happened fast. We had no time to talk about what to do with this or that. I wish we had had more time.” We all do.

 ?? PROVIDED BY ANTHONY HOUHOULIS ?? Nancy Patsios, profession­al organizer and owner of Sort it Out, in Boston, often works with clients to help them downsize after they’ve lost a partner.
PROVIDED BY ANTHONY HOUHOULIS Nancy Patsios, profession­al organizer and owner of Sort it Out, in Boston, often works with clients to help them downsize after they’ve lost a partner.
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