Closet Clearing

I know myself. I know who I am, what I think, how I feel. Surely, I struggle from time to time with angst and agitation, when I am searching for the just right mental hanger on which to drape my wandering and misplaced thoughts. Today I went into my closet and drawers, and began the purge ... empty hangers and cleared out drawers were a welcome sight, dear reader. 

Months ago, when my older sister Antonella died, my younger sister Patricia and I went through her closets and drawers. We hunted for precious items that reminded us of Nell's, that is our short form nickname for Antonella. When I entered my own walk-in closet this morning, I could not tolerate the junk, the heaps, the piles, the items I have purchased and worn, and then stopped wearing God knows when? The things that I paid for that no longer hold value in my sight, the things that seem vain and frivolous, that I purchased as a pleased consumer ... I put the unwanted articles on my bed, readying them for transfer to a plastic bag for permanent removal. Next, I looked to the shelves I had placed my deceased sister's belongs on, I looked to the things she had left behind. We enter into the world naked and vulnerable, and when we exit, we are subjected to the whims and wishes of others ... isn't that so, dear reader? Nell's died in a hospital bed wearing hideous hospital fashion, it's all the rage for patients, but a person that loves shopping, wouldn't be caught dead that garb ... forgive my very black humour, dear one, it matches my sad mood. 

Death unsettles, it disturbs, it makes us reticent, if we are thoughtful regarding the status of our own soul. When I wear something that I took from my sisters rooms, from her private collection of personal items, I feel engulfed with a layer of residual sadness, and it remains as a reminder whilst I sport the item, that she ought to be adorned with whatever it is that now belongs to me ... it occurs to me, the tops, the earnings, the rings, will never ever be mine, not in the truest sense of the word. These representations of her taste, her sense of fashion, her playfulness in the selecting, will always and forever belong to her, so long as I see my sister in them in my memory. 

What I wouldn't give, as the saying goes, to see her bounce into my house in one of her latest greatest Winners finds ... The Bible tells us to store up our treasures in heaven: I image my sister to be the treasure I long to find after a brief search, when I arrive there, naked and vulnerable like a new born babe, wanting to be clothed in the glory only God can provide. 

Today is a goodbye of sorts. My sisters and I have always shopped together, shared clothes (sometimes without permission, my bad), and told each other the truth when something was hideously ugly in the changing room. Today I say good-bye to what no longer suits or serves me, and some of the things that will never be filled out by me, or my lovely Nells, ever again. Oh Nells, I want you back, but it is not to be. I pray your clothes bless others, that they feel joyful in them ... you were always so generous, and literally, gave shirts and pants and earrings and rings, right off your back and legs and ears and fingers ... oh and the shoes too! You always gave away shoes!!! All your close friends can attest to that. 

Nells, I want you to know, there are none like you. You were an interesting cat, we miss you, long to hear from you, and only wish against wishing, that you would text or call, or pop on by ... nothing is the same without you ... All my love, Linda.