This isn't easy. It's 3 and 1/2 years. S. and R. have slowly moved Kyle's clothes out of his room and into bags, first behind my headboard and then---when I was getting the place painted and new rugs put down---out onto the balcony. They've been out there almost a year now. But it's time to deal with it, but I'm just procrastinating.
It's time to say goodbye to his clothes and I can't bare it. It's helped that R. has started to wash some things, but I want really don't want her to. I can't bear that I won't be able to bury my head in a sweatshirt and smell my boy.
A family friend, who is very tall and is a housepainter, could really use the clothes, even all the paint stained things. We found three jackets -- one brand new. I feel good that Ky's clothes will go to someone who needs them. Things he can't use he'll pass on to others who can. I found so many pairs of Dickey pants -- in great condition except for the paint stains. I know I bought Ky a bunch of his Dickey stuff, but other than the paint stains, several pairs seem to be almost brand new. I found a black Dickey shirt without stains. I put it on. I'm wearing it still. Don't think I'll be able to part with it.
One of the saddest things for me, his mom, is all his boxers. I recognize all the boxers. Kids don't buy boxers; they let moms do it. Each was worn and washed so much the cloth is thin. He clearly never threw any out.
I don't want to give away Kyle's clothes. I want my son to come back and get them.
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Hope
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
-E. Dickinson
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