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I Did a Hard Thing This Week
December 3rd, 2022 06:19 pmMy mother died when I was just barely an adult. She and my father took an anniversary trip to Europe within the year before she died and they had gotten her all kinds of clothes on the way, from London and Paris, and maybe elsewhere, I don't remember.
When she died, my sisters and I went through her stuff, and we each took some things. But my mother was petite, so while her clothes mostly fit me, the arms were all too short for me. I rolled the sleeves up to disguise it.
But also, my mother's style was preppy, not from any conscious decision, that's just how she dressed. Shirt dresses, button downs under sweaters, boiled jackets, all of it. My dad was preppy too, I mean, he went to UVA, which is pretty much the biggest prep school in the south, or at least outside of the Ivy League. (When preppy became an actual style fad, I was completely bemused that all my peers started dressing like my parents). My style was definitely more punk.
Anyway, long story short, I mostly didn't wear the clothes I got from her, but couldn't bear to throw them away because they had been hers. My sisters felt the same.
We did the same thing when my dad died more than 10 years ago. Although, none of us tried to wear his clothes, aside from a cashmere sweater that I have that looks like it's intentionally over-sized.
Then I got the idea to make patchwork pillows out of their clothes, one pillow for each of us. My sisters sent me the clothes that they had. I bought pillow forms and quilt batting. I put them in my closet for 'when I had time'.
A few months ago, after 10 years of those supplies sitting in my closet, I acknowledged that I was never going to have time for that project and texted my sisters to see if they wanted the materials. They didn't.
When I went to clean my closet a few days ago, I had planned to find a better way to store all those clothes. But I realized that they were gorgeous, well-made clothes that were barely worn. I wasn't using them, but someone else might appreciate them.
With great reluctance, I put all my mother's clothes in a bag with the rest of the donations. Several times on the drive to donate them, I nearly pulled over and got those clothes out of the bags. But I managed to do it.
I don't feel any sense of relief or lightness. But it was time.
When she died, my sisters and I went through her stuff, and we each took some things. But my mother was petite, so while her clothes mostly fit me, the arms were all too short for me. I rolled the sleeves up to disguise it.
But also, my mother's style was preppy, not from any conscious decision, that's just how she dressed. Shirt dresses, button downs under sweaters, boiled jackets, all of it. My dad was preppy too, I mean, he went to UVA, which is pretty much the biggest prep school in the south, or at least outside of the Ivy League. (When preppy became an actual style fad, I was completely bemused that all my peers started dressing like my parents). My style was definitely more punk.
Anyway, long story short, I mostly didn't wear the clothes I got from her, but couldn't bear to throw them away because they had been hers. My sisters felt the same.
We did the same thing when my dad died more than 10 years ago. Although, none of us tried to wear his clothes, aside from a cashmere sweater that I have that looks like it's intentionally over-sized.
Then I got the idea to make patchwork pillows out of their clothes, one pillow for each of us. My sisters sent me the clothes that they had. I bought pillow forms and quilt batting. I put them in my closet for 'when I had time'.
A few months ago, after 10 years of those supplies sitting in my closet, I acknowledged that I was never going to have time for that project and texted my sisters to see if they wanted the materials. They didn't.
When I went to clean my closet a few days ago, I had planned to find a better way to store all those clothes. But I realized that they were gorgeous, well-made clothes that were barely worn. I wasn't using them, but someone else might appreciate them.
With great reluctance, I put all my mother's clothes in a bag with the rest of the donations. Several times on the drive to donate them, I nearly pulled over and got those clothes out of the bags. But I managed to do it.
I don't feel any sense of relief or lightness. But it was time.
