THIS IS THE SWEATER I WORE TO MY SISTER’S FUNERAL

I finally got around to cleaning out my closet and let me tell you it had been too long since the last time. I had no idea how long it had been. Being that I have a mild traumatic brain injury, organization is no longer my forte. It is instead my nemesis, a true torture trip. Typically, I’ll begin and in the middle of the task I loose track of where I put what and where to put what and then total freak-out confusion sets in and I simply give up defeated. So, I don’t feel very good most of the time after attempting to re-arrange or organize any room in my house these days. I also find the disarray to be a constant reminder and reflection of my disability.
Yesterday though, I was blessed with clear thinking and laughter. My daughter came home from school just about the time I was knee deep in piles of clothing, shoes, and purses. She started in with the comments about much of the clothing I was finally throwing out (read giving away), saying things like: “that seriously could have never been in style right?” referring to one particular black sheer sleeved, beaded collar, and shoulder-padded blouse as I tried it on one last time just to make sure it was no longer something I’d wear....delusional and hoardish qualities were definitely struggling to have a play. Later she squawked with laughter while standing in front of the mirror, in full on disco-move stance, while wearing a full length black leotard from the ’80’s I had somehow also managed to salvage all these years, minus the thong that was worn on the outside; believe it or not the elastic was still in good condition! We laughed and laughed, but then there was the sweater, the gray sweater. I said, while holding it up to my chest remembering all the things I didn’t want to remember, “this is the sweater I wore to my sister’s funeral” ...talk about a mood dampener! That sweater makes me feel ill all over and I’m certain I will never be able to wear again. I’m catapulted back in time and scenes of pain flood my mind. Fortunately my daughter pulled me out of it with her laughter and words about what a great blog post the sweater would make. AH....a better use for it finally.
Setting it aside as I pondered what to do about it, I continued cleaning and sorting through so many articles of clothing and purses I should have gotten rid of at a least a decade ago. My daughter decided to keep the leotard for a possible halloween costume and I filled bags with the rest of the 80’s hilarity for charity, as if anyone would want it.
Neatly arranging the things I wanted to keep and placing them back into the closet, I downheartedly folded the sweater, uncertain whether to keep it or not, and placed it back inside the closet as well. The next time I journey to clean and toss, maybe then I’ll be ready to let go of it and all it represents. Maybe then I’ll be done with the suffering. Maybe then I’ll let someone else wear the sweater; hopefully not to a funeral.