Sorting it out, giving it up, trying to move on

Mom has been talking about it for a while. We were going to get together with her to do it, but she did it on her own. She had the difficult task of going through Dad's clothing. I can only imagine the memories and thoughts that consumed her when she was taking things out of drawers and off of hangers. Old clothes with memories associated with them, the "Johnny Carson" suit that Mom bought him when she worked at Buffums. The blue suit that Dad wears on many special occasions, captured in photos of special events. The new pants and shirts she bought him so that while he was confined to a wheel chair and in an assisted living home, he would still look nice. Mom took great pride in making sure Dad dressed well. He may not have been stylish - we could not get him to wear polo shirts, jeans or even a different type of fabric of slacks - we all kidded about it, but Mom made sure he always looked good.

She told me that she sorted out some of the special things she thought one of us would want. She kept the grey cardigan sweater which he always wore with his English cap, the one we had at the memorial service next to a picture of Dad wearing that outfit with Mom. Holding his "cabbage cane" I got for him on the Isle of Guernsey in the English channel. I thought it was unique, just like Dad, and brought it back for him a long time ago.

She had a catch in her voice while she talked about it. It makes his passing even more real. It's hard for me, I can't imagine what it is like for her.

She did want to make sure that the clothes went to someone who could really use them, someone whose life it might help to change. She called up Sunshine Acres and arranged for them to pick up his clothes. They did it today.

Mom told Gary the story about what it took to get the clothes bagged up and ready. She put plastic bags in her grocery cart and filled them with clothes. Carefully sorting out by the type of clothing. When she tried to lift the clothing out of the cart, she found it was too heavy. She had to lay the cart on it's side and slowly tug it out. I can imagine Mom sitting of the floor, exertion is hard for her, pulling the bags out of the cart. The difficulty in doing the task reflects how difficult it was to do the sorting. Sitting on the floor must have been the same as bringing someone down to their knees with grief, pieces of your loved one's life being sorted and given away. Much like your heart was given in the first place, when the receiver is taken away, so goes your heart - after so many years it leaves a terrible void.

A shirt, pants, shoes and socks may not make the man, but they dressed the man. A man who left his own mark on our lives, a man who is never far from our thoughts, a man whose passing has left a void. Perhaps the passing of his clothing will bring a new chapter to someone else's life. Perhaps this is another way Dad can live on.