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Look, everyone grieves differently. Some people keep ashes in an urn. Some people scatter them at a meaningful location. You kept the whole corpse in your bedroom for fourteen months. No judgment.
But at some point, practicality has to win. The smell isn’t "musky cologne" anymore. Your book club is asking questions. And honestly, the emotional attachment to decomposing tissue is making it hard to meet new people.
Here’s how to finally move forward.
1. Start with the extremities
You don’t have to go cold turkey (pun absolutely intended). Start small. A finger here, a toe there. Think of it as weaning yourself off the relationship, one appendage at a time.
The psychological benefit is real. You’re still technically holding onto him, just less of him. Put the removed parts in a tasteful wooden box. Tell guests it’s potpourri. They won’t ask twice.
Bonus: if you do this gradually enough over six months, you’ll barely notice when the torso finally goes. It’s the relationship equivalent of cutting a dog’s nails – better in small, manageable sessions.
2. Donate to science (posthumously)
Medical schools are always looking for cadavers. Sure, they typically prefer them fresher and with more paperwork, but you’d be surprised what they’ll accept if you’re persistent enough and show up during finals week.
Call it a charitable contribution. Your late husband gets to educate the next generation of doctors. You get your spare bedroom back. The med students get a very challenging anatomy practical. Everyone wins.
Just maybe don’t mention the fourteen-month storage period. Let them discover that organically.
3. The attic compromise
Not ready for full separation? Fine. Box him up and move him to the attic. Out of sight, out of mind, but technically still in the house if you’re feeling sentimental at 3am.
This is the relationship equivalent of "taking a break." You’re not saying goodbye forever, you’re just saying goodbye to having him on the living room couch during Wheel of Fortune.
Pro tip: use multiple garbage bags. The structural integrity of corpses stored in bedroom conditions for over a year is not what you’d hope. Double bag minimum. Triple if you have carpet on the attic stairs.
4. Gradual desensitization therapy
Start spending time away from the corpse. An hour at first. Then two. Work your way up to a full afternoon at Target without texting a friend to "check on Geoff."
Replace the physical presence with other comfort objects. A photo album. His favorite sweater (washed extensively). That novelty mug he used every morning. You know, normal keepsakes that don’t violate health codes.
The goal is to prove to yourself that you can maintain emotional connection to your late husband without maintaining his actual decomposing flesh in your personal space. Therapy calls this "healthy boundary-setting."
5. Make it someone else’s problem
Here’s the nuclear option: move. New apartment, new city, fresh start. Just don’t tell the movers about the extra "luggage" and let the landlord discover it during the final walkthrough.
Unethical? Absolutely. Effective? Also absolutely. You get a clean break from both the physical corpse and the emotional weight of being the person who had to dispose of it. Your security deposit was going to get dinged for something anyway.
The landlord will call the police, the police will handle removal, and you’ll be three states away with plausible deniability. "Officer, I moved out two weeks ago. I have no idea how a human corpse ended up in that closet."
The bottom line
At some point, holding onto physical remains stops being grief and starts being a storage problem. Your late husband would probably want you to move on. At minimum, he’d want you to stop tripping over his ribcage on your way to the bathroom at night.
Grief doesn’t have a timeline, but decomposition does. And you’ve exceeded it.
Pick a method. Set a deadline. Maybe invite a friend over for moral support (don’t tell them why until they’re already there – they’ll be more committed to helping). Rip the band-aid off.
Your spare room is going to make an excellent home office once you reclaim it.
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