Holding On and Letting Go

When we lose someone we love deeply, our world shifts. The air feels different, our days move slower, and even ordinary objects—like a jacket, a coffee mug, or a toothbrush—can hold so much meaning.

In the weeks and months after my husband passed, I found myself surrounded by his things. Each item felt like a piece of our story — a memory tucked into fabric, a whisper of his presence that lingered in our home. One day, I found the strength to go through his clothes. I gently folded each shirt, touched each sleeve, and allowed the memories to wash over me. Some I boxed up and donated, hoping they might bring warmth and comfort to someone else. Others I kept back—special ones for our kids, small connections they could hold onto as they grow.

But there was one thing I couldn’t touch. His toothbrush.

It sat there quietly, untouched, for a long time. And I there wasn't a particular reason why. I would see it and feel that familiar tug in my heart—the reminder that he had been here, that love had lived here. I wasn’t ready to move it, and that was okay.

We often place expectations on ourselves about “moving on” or “clearing out,” but grief doesn’t follow a timeline. Healing isn’t a project with neat milestones—it’s a tender unfolding. Sometimes, letting go feels right. Other times, holding on is what helps us breathe. Both are okay.

If you’re walking through this chapter, please remember:

• There’s no wrong way to grieve.

• There’s no rush to pack things away.

• You can release some things and hold onto others.

• And when the time comes—whenever that may be—you’ll know what feels right.

End-of-life planning is more than paperwork and logistics. It’s also about honoring the emotional spaces we inhabit—the love, the memories, the quiet moments that remind us of who we’ve lost and how they shaped our lives.

Be gentle with yourself and give yourself lots of grace. Healing doesn’t mean forgetting. It means learning how to carry love forward, in ways that are uniquely your own.

With Love,

Jessica