A few months after my mom died, her friend called and asked me if we had any more of her clothes. I thought it was an odd question. We still had all the clothes. Before she passed she had instructed us to give them to the shelter she had volunteered at. She spent a lot of time there. She worked in a food bank. They also had a program that helped women find jobs. They helped women find interviews and gave them a nice outfit to wear to it. I knew where the clothes needed to go. I hadn’t had the courage to do it yet. I guess I thought she might need them when she came back. That’s the way the mind thinks. Maybe it’s the way the heart thinks. In my heart I wanted her back so bad. Her friend told me not to take everything to the shelter. She told me to save some of the pieces that were really represented her. Picking out those pieces was easy. She considered herself a SOLDIER (for the Lord), camo was her get-up.
She was a FREE SPIRIT, WILD for animal prints.
She was SOFT, TENDER, a pretty pink rose.
She was HAPPY and COLORFUL, her closet said so.
Loading her clothes in the back of my car and taking them to the shelter is something I will never forget. The morning was spent with my sister-in-law. We went though everything as quickly and as painlessly as we could. I didn’t want to get caught up in reminiscing over every piece of clothes. I was trying to stay focused on the task at hand, get though it, get it done. It still took a long time. My mom was a shopaholic for sure. Every part of her closet was jammed with clothes, hats, purses, shoes! She was a great dresser. She had a funky style, all her own. It was something I loved about her. By the time I got every thing in my car, it was time to pick up the kids from school. There was no way I was waiting to take the clothes over. I didn’t want to be driving around with her clothes in my car. That would kill me. I got the kids from school and we headed out to the shelter. I had never been there before. I only heard the stories she told me. We drove out to an area that was less than desirable. A barren deserted looking place. As we pulled up to the shelter it was far from deserted, it was beaming with life. There was a line of people half a mile long. Mothers, fathers, children, babies, all waiting to go into the food warehouse. It took my breath away. This is where she came. This is where the stories were from. This is the line she saw. All the times she told me to come with her, I didn’t go. Now I’m here with my kids, she’s gone and were giving them her clothes. We opened the back of the car and carried all of her clothes in. Little Luke was like a soldier himself. He was so little with such a big mound of clothes in his arms. He marched back and forth from the car. Feeling proud that he was strong enough for such a big load. I don’t think he realized what we were doing. He knew it was Nana’s clothes, that’s about it. The older kids knew. I would get a glance every once in a while from my older son Preston. The, “Is mom doing o.k?” glance. Preston still gives me those glances any time he see’ s something that he thinks might trigger me to tears. He’s the first one to say, “Change the station, turn that off!” He’s a tender heart.
Once all the clothes were given and the car was empty, we drove away. I realized I was still learning who my mother was. She was a SOLDIER, FREE SPIRIT, WILD, SOFT and TENDER, HAPPY and COLORFUL, but she was more than that. She was someone that stood side by side with the needy. A GIVER. A COMPASSIONATE person. She lived from her HEART. She was giving even on her death bed, she lived with purpose, because that’s who she was!
A few months later I received the most precious gift…a memory quilt made out of her clothes I had picked out. When I opened it, the feelings overwhelmed me. It was her, all her. Sometimes I sleep with it. It still smells like her. It’s parts of who she was, but she was so much more…
Love Ones Memory Blankets
