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The change room. 

I have a love/hate relationship with Dad’s change room. When I walk in there it’s like time has been suspended. All of his things are still there – waiting for him to come use them. Well, except for the fact that some of his ashes are also there. That kind of ruins my fantasy that everything is normal. 

I like to go into his room and talk to him. It makes me feel safe and feel close to him. After I’m done chatting away I always stand and sigh and look around the room. It always seems so strange to me that all his things are still here exactly as they were, but he’s not.  

He wasn’t a man who was all about possessions, but you can’t reach a certain age without collecting a certain amount of stuff. It makes me happy to see his stuff, it breaks my heart to see his stuff. It’s just sitting there waiting for him. 

This morning my mom sent me a poem that described very well how I feel: 

The Sadness of Clothes

 Emily Fragos

When someone dies, the clothes are so sad. They have outlived their usefulness and cannot get warm and full.

You talk to the clothes and explain that he is not coming back as when he showed up immaculately dressed in slacks and plaid jacket and had that beautiful smile on and you’d talk.

You’d go to get something and come back and he’d be gone.

 You explain death to the clothes like that dream.

You tell them how much you miss the spouse and how much you miss the pet with its little winter sweater.

You tell the worn raincoat that if you talk about it, you will finally let grief out. 

The ancients etched the words for battle and victory onto their shields and then they went out and fought to the last breath. 

Words have that kind of power you remind the clothes that remain in the drawer, arms stubbornly folded across the chest, or slung across the backs of chairs,or hanging inside the dark closet.

 Do with us what you will,they faintly sigh, as you close the door on them.

He is gone and no one can tell us where.

 I know they’re just things, but they’re his things and besides memories that’s all we have now. It’s why I love the room and hate that room. So many emotions in there. 
Happiness moment was racing around the yard this afternoon with Jacob watching a tornado drop in and out of the sky. This only ended up being a happiness moment of course because it passed us by. But as soon as we knew we were safe, we had fun watching the storm clouds. This was followed by a trip to town with my cousin for ice cream. Mmmmmm

  

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