I read an interesting article in the newspaper this morning about a widow who couldn't bring herself to dispose of her husband's clothes. It doesn't take a psychiatrist to understand why this is so difficult. His clothes were his earthly covering and, even cleaned, would carry traces of him, pictures in her mind of him wearing them.
My husband passed away almost 5 years ago and there was only one thing I couldn't bring myself to discard and that was a pair of boat shoes. I asked myself why a million times and found that just approaching the idea made my mind veer away in discomfort. It still does.
The shoes eventually did go but remembering them has a strong effect on me to this day. Of all his possessions, why would these shoes bother me so much, I wonder?
I remember packing up a massive pile of clothes to send to my grandson's church and trying not to identify them with my husband. Many of his clothes still had the tags on them because it was always me who decided he needed something new even though he preferred his old and worn out things. I guess many wives are like that...and many husbands.
The boat shoes were something he had chosen, though. They were purchased because they wouldn't mark up his sailboat but he wore them most days. I remember how he hated wearing new running shoes and would dirty them on purpose to make them look less brand new, but not so with those boat shoes. He'd replace them once they started looking shabby.
It was a sad day for me when I finally said goodbye to those darned shoes but seeing them in the closet was always a wrenching feeling and I wanted that to end. The day had come when it was time to let go.
2 comments:
I still have the last pair of David's work clothes that I washed and his sandals. They are tucked in a corner on a shelf. Why? Because.
Just because. That's all the reason we need.
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