Tonight I’m finally back at my apartment after spending the past two weeks housesitting for a couple who have three dogs and two horses. And, of course, all of the clutter and crap that was here before I left is still lingering. I hate the fact that I live in a messy home, but until about six months ago, I was so stuck in the grief of Emily’s death that I couldn’t even begin to tackle it. Now it’s just so overwhelming I don’t even know where to begin.

I decided to work on folding and putting away laundry in my room that’s been sitting for a while. It’s something mindless and simple, but will also make a huge impact on the cleanliness of my room. Also, it let me be on the same floor of the apartment as the kids while they showered and prepared for bedtime.

But, about five minutes into it, I found a swimsuit of Emily’s. And that’s when I lost it

No matter how many times I do laundry, and no matter how many times I box up her things and move them into the garage, I keep finding more. It’s like “The Song That Never Ends,” but with scrub tops and tiny socks. It’s maddening.

As I angrily hung up the shirt I wore on our first official date, I looked at the picture of Emily on my nightstand and said, “You know what? I’m really fucking mad at you! This entire mess in this stupid three-story townhouse you insisted we rent is your fault!”

I continued folding and putting away laundry, looking at the boxes we never unpacked because we assumed we had more time. Because, before she died, we never considered the possibility one of us would be gone. Before she died, we were filling in venue information in the wedding spreadsheet we’d made. Before she died, I wasn’t working three jobs. Before she died, I was the happiest and healthiest I’d ever been.

Before she died. Before… She… Died.

But, the more I sat and folded laundry, the more I realized just how different my life was just one year before she passed. In 2021, I started the year completely debt free. In 2021, my apartment was clean and organized. In 2021, I was completely off medications and cutting back the frequency of my therapy sessions because all of my providers were in agreement I was not only stable, but thriving. In 2021, I was cooking dinner every night, reading the children bedtime stories, and sleeping through the night.

It’s so frustrating to look back and realize how much damage a single event can do. But, then again, some of these issues started before she died and merely grew exponentially after the fact. And, in reality, it isn’t necessarily Emily’s fault… Yet a part of me still feels angry that she’s dead and I’m left picking up all the pieces with nothing to show for it besides a dress hanging in my closet and lots of photographs.

It’s odd; I never thought I’d feel so angry with Emily for something that, for the most part, was completely out of her control. But here I am, typing all of this out, desperately trying to calm down as the kids fall asleep.

I’m sorry, Emily, but I think I’ll always be a little mad at you. Not for dying, but for always procrastinating and talking me into having fun instead of being responsible. Because maybe, just maybe, if we’d unpacked all of the boxes before you died, I wouldn’t feel so overwhelmed and angry every time I find a piece of her clothing.