I Am So Tired

My husband died 2 months ago. We were married for just 2-1/4 years. When we met, he was widowed and I was divorced. It was literally love at first sight, and we were both so grateful for this second chance at love.

When a couple is married for just a few years, there is much that is not jointly owned. Therefore, to satisfy the probate court of New York State, I've had to do an inventory of Ron's stuff, as I fondly, and sometimes crossly, call his belongings.

Now that I've been named executrix of the estate, I can also sell whatever I want of his stuff. I'm not talking about selling personal belongings. I'm talking about the big-boy toys and work-related equipment he owned. Big things that hold no sentimental value for me and that have to be liquidated before I can put the house on the market because they are taking up room in the house and on the property.

It's exhausting. Ron was a hunter and had dozens of guns. He also collected knives and clocks and marbles and fishing rods and..... stuff! He had big-boy toys, such as a bucket truck, a backhoe, a pick-up truck with a plow blade, a diesel work truck, a pontoon boat, a canoe, a full-fledged Indian tepee that he had made (he wasn't an Indian but when younger, often did extreme wilderness camping) to name a few of the bigger things. I've had to inventory, get estimates of value, and am finding buyers for everything.

I'm tired physically, mentally and emotionally. I'm tired of sorting, tossing and negotiating with potential buyers. I'm tired of doing all the work in and outside the house. I clean inside. I rake leaves, mow the lawn and am starting to prepare for winter outside. I'm tired of the additional chores brought on by the coming of winter: getting a large supply of bird seed; ordering rock salt for the driveway and walkways; arranging for the installation of an auto-start generator; measuring windows for plastic coverings; having the furnace serviced; negotiating with someone to plow the very long (200+ feet) driveway. I'm tired of paying all the bills and worrying alone about the cost of heating this 217-year-old house this winter. I'm tired of calling the service guy twice to fix the dryer, something Ron could have done because that was part of the business he owned.

I estimate it will be 18 months before the house is ready to be put on the market, and I anticipate almost constant work to reach that goal.

I feel as if I'm continually giving Ron away, but I know I can't keep all this stuff. I had no need for his leased pick-up truck nor could I afford the monthly lease payments. I have no need for shot guns or pistols. I have no need for a bucket truck or a backhoe. And how many grandfather clocks can one person have? But each time someone says, "I'll buy..." I weep.

He spent his entire life acquiring these things that he enjoyed -- that made his life fulfilling, and boy did he have a full life -- and I will eradicate them in a fraction of the time. It doesn't seem right but it's got to be done.

All I want is to go to bed, lay my head on his shoulder and cry.