Two Years After My Husband Died, I Finally Dared to Sort Through His Stuff in the Garage — What I Found Changed My Life

Then I did the same thing all over the house, slowly removing traces of my husband as I healed. Everywhere except the garage.

That was Mark’s domain. And it felt like I was breaking in when I opened his door. But on a crisp fall morning, something shifted. The weight of grief turned to determination. I grabbed a bottle of water, tied my hair back, and opened the door.

The air inside smelled of dust and forgotten summers we’d spent together. Mark’s familiar clutter greeted me. Half-labeled boxes, precarious piles of tools, a fishing pole leaning against the wall.