Ray constantly teases me about being a hoarder. He's only half teasing. However, Ray tends to hang on to old junk too. He just thinks his stuff is worth saving. The closet is the worst. Over the last 15 years we've had this exact conversation dozens of times:
Ray: Why are you throwing that out?! That's a (nice/lucky/inherited) shirt!
Me: Seriously?! It went out of style (5/10/15) years ago, and it's (stained/holey/threadbare).
I used to argue. I usually lost. Then I started sticking the shirt back in the closet and throwing it away when it came back through the laundry. Ray wised up and stopped wearing the (nice/lucky/inherited) shirts. Instead, they've been taking up space in the closet. It's not that Ray really needs the closet space, but I could move some of my stuff to his closet if there were extra space. The main problem is that when it is important that one of those items stay in the closet, I look up and Ray is wearing one of the those (nice/lucky/inherited) shirts - as we are walking out the door - to go somewhere nice.
So, yesterday we tackled the closets. It was kind of interesting at first. Ray's closet covered all 15 years of our marriage. I remember buying many of the items for Ray or trips or outings when he was wearing a particular item, or past careers when he wore ties. At some point, I started feeling like I was throwing out clothing for someone that was gone. If you didn't know Ray 10 years ago, he was a big man. If you haven't seen him in a few years, he's not anymore. It was alarming to see the size of clothes drop as I went through the stacks: x-large to large, then large to medium, and to realize that many of those mediums just hang on his frame. It was like watching him waste away before my eyes.
As I neared the bottom of the stack, I saw the new fly-fishing vest Ray's dad gave him last Spring still sporting the tags. As moved it into the keep pile, I noticed that it felt heavy. Looking into the pockets, I found a set of flies, scissors, line, reels, and other miscellaneous things fishermen need. It was such a sweet and thoughtful gift. Ray loves the outdoors. He loves to fish. He loves and misses New Mexico and all the hunting and fishing it had to offer. But looking at that vest, I know Ray is probably close to done with things of that nature. The vest an incredible gift that he will probably never get to use. There won't be many more fishing trips, and I don't think there will ever be anymore fly-fishing trips. I can't imagine trying to get Ray to a stream or river, and if we did, I don't think he could stand on the rocks or in the water.
I think the buildup of the week got to me. I sat and cried over Ray's clothes. Clothes he wore and can't wear again. Clothes he will never get the opportunity to wear. It seems like such a silly little thing to cry over. As I considered it though, clothes are personal. We spend a lot of time picking them out - or not. Either way, the process of how and what we choose to put on describes us. Admit it, we almost all have at least one article of clothing that we can't bare to send to goodwill. We keep wedding dresses and baby coming-home outfits to remind us of our best days. We keep suits from grandfathers and fathers that have passed to remind us of the men that provided for us and protected us. Yesterday I realized that everyday clothes can bring up memories that are just as sweet. Even that fishing vest that may never be worn reminded me of the love a father has for his son.
It was tempting to hang on to some things for the memories, but most I gave away. The fishing vest stayed because I hope that Ray will get to use it. The suit my parents bought Ray when he graduated from college stayed so that I can pass it on to the boys. I even kept a few raggedy old t-shirts. I figure that Ray keeps them because they are comfortable. And at this point, comfort is probably what Ray wants most from his clothes.
So, yesterday we tackled the closets. It was kind of interesting at first. Ray's closet covered all 15 years of our marriage. I remember buying many of the items for Ray or trips or outings when he was wearing a particular item, or past careers when he wore ties. At some point, I started feeling like I was throwing out clothing for someone that was gone. If you didn't know Ray 10 years ago, he was a big man. If you haven't seen him in a few years, he's not anymore. It was alarming to see the size of clothes drop as I went through the stacks: x-large to large, then large to medium, and to realize that many of those mediums just hang on his frame. It was like watching him waste away before my eyes.
As I neared the bottom of the stack, I saw the new fly-fishing vest Ray's dad gave him last Spring still sporting the tags. As moved it into the keep pile, I noticed that it felt heavy. Looking into the pockets, I found a set of flies, scissors, line, reels, and other miscellaneous things fishermen need. It was such a sweet and thoughtful gift. Ray loves the outdoors. He loves to fish. He loves and misses New Mexico and all the hunting and fishing it had to offer. But looking at that vest, I know Ray is probably close to done with things of that nature. The vest an incredible gift that he will probably never get to use. There won't be many more fishing trips, and I don't think there will ever be anymore fly-fishing trips. I can't imagine trying to get Ray to a stream or river, and if we did, I don't think he could stand on the rocks or in the water.
I think the buildup of the week got to me. I sat and cried over Ray's clothes. Clothes he wore and can't wear again. Clothes he will never get the opportunity to wear. It seems like such a silly little thing to cry over. As I considered it though, clothes are personal. We spend a lot of time picking them out - or not. Either way, the process of how and what we choose to put on describes us. Admit it, we almost all have at least one article of clothing that we can't bare to send to goodwill. We keep wedding dresses and baby coming-home outfits to remind us of our best days. We keep suits from grandfathers and fathers that have passed to remind us of the men that provided for us and protected us. Yesterday I realized that everyday clothes can bring up memories that are just as sweet. Even that fishing vest that may never be worn reminded me of the love a father has for his son.
It was tempting to hang on to some things for the memories, but most I gave away. The fishing vest stayed because I hope that Ray will get to use it. The suit my parents bought Ray when he graduated from college stayed so that I can pass it on to the boys. I even kept a few raggedy old t-shirts. I figure that Ray keeps them because they are comfortable. And at this point, comfort is probably what Ray wants most from his clothes.
