Mom's pink coat......Pop's shaggy sweater......such personal items left behind bring surprising comfort to those who grieve.
The Pink Coat
For months Mom's pink coat hung in the entry hall, keeping her memory vividly alive. The scent of her Tweed cologne mingled with the smoke from her cigarettes, embe dded in the fabric of the coat.
That coat meant a lot to Mom. It gave her a youthful look, a confident step. It was only a short, pink cotton coat, but it was "in style." With my help, she had chosen it in the budget basement of Tobias' Ladies' Shop. She wore it well, feeling more worthwhile in a garment so up-to-date, so like those of other women her age. Would her pink coat be called "trendy" now? It was a trend then, and for Mom to be in on a current trend was sweetly satisfying.
She wore the pink coat to the emergency room that day. I held it as we waited for the doctors to work their wonders and send her home. Instead, a faceless doctor came to tell us, "She didn't make it." Pop didn't get the meaning of those elusive words and I had to declare it to him in plain English. "He means she DIED, Pop!"
Struggling with the unwelcome truth, I carried home the pink coat, seeming still warm with her life. Strange how a piece of clothing can be so much a part of someone. For weeks, a touch of her coat; a breath of her perfume; gave me comfort, bringing a sense of her nearness to me.
Connie, I'm so glad I found your little home here at AD. I love everything I've read so far and this is no exception. I still have Mom's old throw and when I get to missing her too much, I wrap it around me. It's a comfort. Elizabeth
Connie, I loved this story. I still have my mother's old blue terrycloth bathrobe. It is so hard to let go! Thanks very much for this lovely and moving glimpse into your life.
Jean
I have read this over and over again. What a day that must have been. I have a stick of gum in a little plastic purse saved from one of her other garments. This reminds me of how much I loved her and you, my sweet sis.
This is a poignant reminder of the things we cling to when the persons we love are gone. My dear Uncle Billy passed away in 2001 at the age of 81. I still have his hats, a suitcoat, a worn and torn bible he read every day, his favorite Christmas decorations. As long as I can hold onto yesterday's realities, it reminds me his passing has only been through the door and into the next room...
Irish blessings your way from a fellow author and Ashland neighbor...
This is a precious keepsake in itself. I, too, have a pink coat......eerily, it really could have been me in your poem.
It was a wonderful gift you sowed into your mother's LIFE; now in her DEATH, you have reaped it as a reward.
God is good....all the time.
Bless you, Love you, Rhonda
Very touching. It's well written and pulls you in. I can see and smell the pink coat myself. It reminds me of the briefcase I have from my Uncle. It gives me some comfort too. Thank you for sharing this piece.
Connie, I just discovered this touching piece of work. The loss of a loved one is difficult, but God always helps us through. Thank you for sharing a part of your Mom with us; I feel blessed to have read it.
Sepsis knocked her down and out. Faith, hope, and gave her the strength to get back on her feet. I am a Runner She fought the river of death They said she'd never run again
She proved them wrong...
Inside the Methadone Clinic. Addiction to heroin, methadone, and other opiates. Destruction. The primal addiction" of the child, power and control over your own life, the institutions and the characters, the love between a mother and son. This book i
