Moving Day
I did what I thought was going to be a hard job yesterday. I packed up my late wife’s clothing for the local Catholic charity in Fredericksburg. It was hard. But I was prepared for emotional and taxing. I got hot and sweaty. There are six big boxes and a garment bag full of clothes. Two of the boxes contain shoes, well over sixty pair and at least 30 of them are in individual boxes. Dresses, blouses, and coats weigh a lot. They’re bringing a truck to pick them up.
As I worked, I pulled out a few pieces I wanted to save, primarily embroidered fancy stuff and one plain blouse that just said, keep me. My children and her friends have been all through the clothes already this past year, taking blouses and dresses they wanted and could use. I gave away another large batch of her slacks and jeans last year. That’s when it was emotional. I stopped until now. In the last month or so, however, something turned over inside me and they just became clothes, a lot of them, that someone might use. It was time. I packed. Now I’m content with thinking how many people will benefit, including me.
I think this is another little riff on living “in” or “with” the past. Previously, I was living in it, literally. Her clothes were everywhere, and it was a dead space. Cluttered, impassable. She was never coming back to get them and there was no place for the now. Gradually, I realized I had lots of pictures and memories of her wearing most of those clothes, and I didn’t really need the clothes themselves. I could let them go. Which is what I’m doing. And now they can live again on other women making them happy, and I can use the space for my guitars and our photos and maybe some of my clothes. It’s still her space, which is the past I’m living with, and always will be, but once again we’ve moved in together and now, we’re sharing it and together we’re going to see what the future might bring. And that feels good and true.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale