Gifts from the dead

While visiting Byjo in Benbrook this weekend, she took me aside to see if I wanted some of the things she'd packed up from Beckys over the last few weeks. (Just in case you are unaware, Becky is my sister that committed suicide about 3 weeks ago.)

Initially, a voice in my head (or heart) screamed, "NO!"

But I've gained a lot of weight and Byjo knew money was tight and I probably didn't have a coat that would fit me. She said she'd brought two jackets (one leather and one soft comfy) from Becky's earlier in the week for me to look at. So I went to look. As soon as I slipped the comfy jacket on, my eyes filled with tears. I felt so warm and cared for; it smelled like Becky.

Before I knew it, I left the garage with two nice jackets, a gorgeous "Lucky" leather bag, and three pair of shoes. I set them by the front door and went outside to cry where no one would see me. As I cry now with no one to see me.

Yesterday, when Byjo casually mentioned wearing a pair of Becky's pants a small part of me wondered how she could do that. I've never had anyone that close to me die. So close I would end up with their personal items. So close I'd even thing of trying their clothes on and keeping them.

I did understand about needing the clothes. Hell, all of us girls weight goes up and down like a frigging yoyo. I bet there are no less than 5 different sizes in any of our closets. I also understand the finances. Byjo is a stay-at-home mom of 2 children with a husband that not only supports them all but took out a sizable loan to help pay for Becky's funeral. Times are tight; and so are our clothes.

And we've always shared clothes. It would be a rare visit, that one of us didn't leave the others house without some new clothes. I guess it's just the way of sisters. What mine is yours; except for my man, my wedding band, and the last servicing of ice cream in the freezer.

Tonight, I sit here wearing a pair of Becky's house shoes and fighting the urge to wrap up in her jacket . . . just because I can. Oh, it hurts. There is no doubt about it. And I was doing a pretty good job of handeling (read avoiding) pain the last week.

But I came away from my experience today with two distinct thoughts:

1) If you can wear it, sit in it, wrap up in it, or smell it and it gives you comfort; take it. I truly believe Becky would be happy that anything she left behind would help us cope just a little with her loss.

2) A needing to tell the younger generation of my family . . . I ain't got crap, so don't get your hopes up.