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A Closet Full of Clothes, Is A Closet Full of Tears

By: Earl D. Erickson

One of the greatest and most difficult challenges I have had to deal with, is the death of a loved one or a close friend. I have had five members of my immediate family pass away within a period of eight years. True, it doesn’t belong in the Guinness Book of World Records, but when it happens to me, it might as well be.

My mother passed away in 1997, my aunt in 1999, my wife in 2001, my uncle in 2004 and my brother in 2005. There’s nobody left but one brother--and we aren’t speaking.

I have always been the one to be elected to step up to the plate to accomplish parting wishes, as an executor of the estate. Why me, I’m the youngest in the family? Maybe because I did the most and have been the most responsible one.

There are many duties as an executor of an estate. Some people can relate, other’s can’t. The task I found most difficult and challenging was when I had to go through the closets and remove clothing. My eyes would well up, a lump in my throat followed, then a shower of tears came streaming down my face. It’s as if they are still with us--still living, still breathing.

There is something very sad, intimate and personal about a person’s clothing after they have died. A flood of memories fiercely penetrate my heart. Each memory stands out so clearly and vividly. Especially, the clothes I gave as a gift to that special person, like my mother. Clothes have a pleasant way of defining a memory so alive. Clothes are a legacy, each and every thread of them.

I’m in the closet now looking through her things. I see the dresses, the pants suits, the blouses, the scarves, the belts, the shoes, the slippers, the nightgowns and a host of other accessories. How in the world am I going to get through this alive? My heart becomes so heavy. I need to get rid of these clothes before I die of a heartache. Something tells me to leave them alone--maybe a voice from beyond or is it my conscience? I have to make up my mind to select the clothes she needs to be buried in. I wish I had a sister to do this for me. I have no sister.

After my clothes selection is made for the burial, I will go into the closet afterwards and blindfold myself
and stuff them in a big, huge box and shut the lid forever. No, that’s stupid. I don’t know which is the proper way of doing this. I seem to be arguing with myself--maybe my conscience again. My conscience sure gets in the way a lot. Am I being cold and heartless to throw all these precious gems out? I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t live with myself. They’re just threads of material, they’re not jewelry. I have photos and home movies to remember her by, why would a thing like clothes disturb my thought process. It would be so much easier if there weren’t clothes made. Who in the hell invented clothes anyway? Everybody should go through life naked. A person comes into their life naked and should go through life naked and be buried naked. Oh, that’s another stupid thought in my way. I’m trying desperately to justify my actions to remove and discard these clothes.

I finally made up my mind. I will donate them to a good cause. I will give them to a charity, maybe a nursing home or an adult family home. I think that would be the best way to deal with my emotional problem. I will get satisfaction by giving them to the needy. Why should I keep them? It will only prolong the pain in my heart. Now my damn conscience kicks in again. What if I run into these people I gave my mother’s clothes to and they are wearing them? How dare them wear my mother’s clothes. How silly can I be? Just bury my damn conscience, I’m turning into a mental case.

Next, my aunt passed away. Another rerun of torture
to go through. What shall I do this time? I’ll do the same, now that I have experience.

Then my wife passed away. This is going to be the grand daddy of them all. It will be the mother of all battles. I will surely die. Maybe I’ll give this chore to my step daughter, my wife’s daughter. No, after all I’ve been through, with all the experience I have, I can handle it. Wrong again, I didn’t handle it well. I cried an eternity but somehow I got through it.

Heaven only knows if I’ll go through this again. I hope not. There isn’t anybody left in my family. I might be safe. God forbid if I have to do it all again. A closet full of clothes, is a closet full of tears.

One of the greatest and most difficult challenges I have had to deal with, is the death of a loved one or a close friend. I have had five members of my immediate family pass away within a period of eight years. True, it doesn’t belong in the Guinness Book of World Records, but when it happens to me, it might as well be.

My mother passed away in 1997, my aunt in 1999, my wife in 2001, my uncle in 2004 and my brother in 2005. There’s nobody left but one brother--and we aren’t speaking.

I have always been the one to be elected to step up to the plate to accomplish parting wishes, as an executor of the estate. Why me, I’m the youngest in the family? Maybe because I did the most and have been the most responsible one.

There are many duties as an executor of an estate. Some people can relate, other’s can’t. The task I found most difficult and challenging was when I had to go through the closets and remove clothing. My eyes would well up, a lump in my throat followed, then a shower of tears came streaming down my face. It’s as if they are still with us--still living, still breathing.

There is something very sad, intimate and personal about a person’s clothing after they have died. A flood of memories fiercely penetrate my heart. Each memory stands out so clearly and vividly. Especially, the clothes I gave as a gift to that special person, like my mother. Clothes have a pleasant way of defining a memory so alive. Clothes are a legacy, each and every thread of them.

I’m in the closet now looking through her things. I see the dresses, the pants suits, the blouses, the scarves, the belts, the shoes, the slippers, the nightgowns and a host of other accessories. How in the world am I going to get through this alive? My heart becomes so heavy. I need to get rid of these clothes before I die of a heartache. Something tells me to leave them alone--maybe a voice from beyond or is it my conscience? I have to make up my mind to select the clothes she needs to be buried in. I wish I had a sister to do this for me. I have no sister.

After my clothes selection is made for the burial, I will go into the closet afterwards and blindfold myself
and stuff them in a big, huge box and shut the lid forever. No, that’s stupid. I don’t know which is the proper way of doing this. I seem to be arguing with myself--maybe my conscience again. My conscience sure gets in the way a lot. Am I being cold and heartless to throw all these precious gems out? I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t live with myself. They’re just threads of material, they’re not jewelry. I have photos and home movies to remember her by, why would a thing like clothes disturb my thought process. It would be so much easier if there weren’t clothes made. Who in the hell invented clothes anyway? Everybody should go through life naked. A person comes into their life naked and should go through life naked and be buried naked. Oh, that’s another stupid thought in my way. I’m trying desperately to justify my actions to remove and discard these clothes.

I finally made up my mind. I will donate them to a good cause. I will give them to a charity, maybe a nursing home or an adult family home. I think that would be the best way to deal with my emotional problem. I will get satisfaction by giving them to the needy. Why should I keep them? It will only prolong the pain in my heart. Now my damn conscience kicks in again. What if I run into these people I gave my mother’s clothes to and they are wearing them? How dare them wear my mother’s clothes. How silly can I be? Just bury my damn conscience, I’m turning into a mental case.

Next, my aunt passed away. Another rerun of torture
to go through. What shall I do this time? I’ll do the same, now that I have experience.

Then my wife passed away. This is going to be the grand daddy of them all. It will be the mother of all battles. I will surely die. Maybe I’ll give this chore to my step daughter, my wife’s daughter. No, after all I’ve been through, with all the experience I have, I can handle it. Wrong again, I didn’t handle it well. I cried an eternity but somehow I got through it.

Heaven only knows if I’ll go through this again. I hope not. There isn’t anybody left in my family. I might be safe. God forbid if I have to do it all again. A closet full of clothes, is a closet full of tears.

Article Source: http://www.travelarticlesexpress.com

Earl D. Erickson is an internet author. He is currently writing a book on his turbulent life and his struggles with alcoholism and recovery, drug addiction, depression, suicide, anger and grief of the loved ones he has lost. His book is entitled, Abstinence Makes The Heart Grow Fonder. He hopes to be finished with that project early next year.
Mr. Erickson owns five websites. One is:
ComfortandLoss.com

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