Passages

Today, I brought the rest of Mom's clothes to Family Services Woodfield in Bridgeport.  This wonderful nonprofit maintains a free store in their basement that includes clothing, household good and other items.  I did it without crying, smiling all the while I was there.

I've been driving around with these 12 or 15 bags of clothes since the beginning of December, after my sister and I cleaned out the closets and her bureau.  I had already brought her coats to the Stratford South End Community Center for the coat closet, but for some reason just couldn't bring myself to drop off Mom's clothes.

There are plenty of mementos and costume jewelry pieces and pictures that we've kept.  Her clothing didn't even "smell" like her anymore.  I had been shifting it from the way back of the Jeep to the back seat and vice versa as needed over the past months.  It was habit to just pile stuff on top of the bags, after a trip to Big Y or BJ's.  I couldn't even get my extra long snow brush put back without it being on a bag or two.  My reluctance to bring her things to be donated was inexplicable to me.  I came home and shook my head, almost every day, that I still had all this stuff in the Jeep!  I was getting a bit concerned that "car bag lady" was going to what people said about me.

So, today, I was determined to bring Mom's clothes to where they could be used, could be worn by people who needed them, who would get them for free.  On my way down Connecticut Avenue to Stratford Avenue to Fairfield Avenue to Clinton Avenue, I kept checking the back seat, not realizing I was doing it until the person behind me at a traffic light beeped.  Yes, the long way was the way to go.  After all, these clothes had traveled with me over the past 300 miles, what were a few more?

Now that I think about it, perhaps my odometer flipping to 170K was the impetus for this trip today.  Have you ever noticed that you want to see your odometer flip to the next "milestone"?  You wait for it, maybe even plan a trip locally so you can actually pay attention to the flip.  It means little in the grand scheme of life, except for those who faithfully follow the manufacturers' recommended check ups (I only know of 2 people that do that...).  Yet, we still notice.

I'm getting all philosophical about bringing these clothes, I know, however it is a milestone for me.  I do have an old pair of her short pj's in the way back of the car for when Santana and I walk at Long Beach.  I use them to wipe his paws off before he gets back in the car.  There are all sorts of daily reminders of Mom - watching Family Feud with Steve Harvey, hearing "It's all About that Bass", seeing a person with dementia being shepherded through a store, wearing one of her many bracelets.

Mom's ashes are in our possession, at our house.  I see the plain box every day, and remind myself to grab one of the ziploc bags to put in my luggage when I go to bring my Dad to New Orleans next week.  I know she would have loved this city, with its music, shotgun houses painted all kinds of colors, amazing food, muddy Mississippi, dancing in the streets, and her beloved granddaughter.

Dad, now 80, may not remember to bring some ashes with him, but I'll have them with me.  Casey and Dad and I will go down to the River and let some fly in the wind, knowing Mom is there with us, in spirit.  We'll have hurricanes in her honor, listen to some old school jazz, and talk about her with Casey, remembering and crying a bit that we missed seeing her wonder at this city she would have loved.