Normally, laundry would not be something one would tend to write about. It piles up, it get lugged, washed, dried, folded and put away. The cycle continues throughout our lives. Some of us are lucky enough to have others do our laundry. Some of us may enjoy the routine and order that clean laundry provides. Some, like myself, alternate between a love/hate relationship.
Last week, I encountered a new emotion while doing laundry. Sadness. I have never cried over laundry before, then again, I have never washed my dead sons clothing. After my day in the city last week, I felt a sudden need to start clearing his things and putting them where they now belonged, in the arms and hearts of loved ones. I carried his clothes from his room to the dining room where I neatly sorted them in to the appropriate piles. Shorts, Tees, Jeans, ect. I then did one of the hardest things I have had to do, called my other sons and asked them to come over and pick through them to take what they wanted.
Before they came, I picked through and pulled out some of his most worn articles, a shirt we actually fought about when he bought it due to the inappropriate nature for school. Looking back, it was not all that inappropriate, especially by todays standards but I had to teach him these things. The pile grew and I knew what I was going to do with them. A memory quilt. I felt that I might be taking things that the boys or Brenda might want which made me uncomfortable, so I decided to go through that selection with them.
The boys came and at first things were uncomfortable. After all, no one ever taught us how to handle a situation like this. Then we all relaxed a bit. Stories and memories were talked about. Stolen shirts reunited with the rightful owners. There were some shirts they wanted but Tony had an odd problem with sweat that render some of his shirts useless. Those we tossed into the quilt pile.
We then decided to call Tonys girlfriend, after all she would most definetly want to wrap herself in some of his belongings. She is a sweetheart and came over to do a very difficult task. I shared my idea of the quilt and she was gracious and even gave up some things to add to it. We decided that there would be enough material to make two quilts, one for her and one for me! It will be a heart wrenching experience but a great stroll down memory lane as we piece together the fabrics of his life.
In the end, Tonys clothes are as they should be. Worn and enjoying life. His brother was wearing his jeans this weekend at the masters of minis race. It brought a smile to my face. I have a box to mail out to his best friend. I have a box for my nephew. A few things I need to have left in his closet. In time, they will work their way into a new home, but for now they are comfortable in his room. Slowly I am going through this process. I know it needs to be done and I am lucky to have the support of my family (which will always include Brenda), to help with the process.
