When my Aunt Susan passed away last spring without a real goodbye or memorial service, I had thoughts and feelings that felt like orphans. I was confused and sad and there was no place for me to share those feelings. Then I was invited to her apartment and given almost all of her clothing.
We feel guilty when we do things that make it seem like we are moving on. Suddenly I was assuming her fabulous wardrobe and trying to make it my own. My Uncle Dwight said that it was so difficult for him to see all of her things leaving her apartment, but he knew that she would want her things to go to family. For me, this trip to her apartment was a chance to say goodbye to this much adored aunt.
It took me a while to feel comfortable wearing her clothes. Her perfume or a business card in a pocket would make me sad.
I’ve shared that I love her clothes, but it’s not just because the jackets are beautiful. It’s also because they remind me of her. My aunt brightened every room she visited. She got excited about people and accomplishments and loved to commemorate special events. I think of her when I put on one of her jackets and I wonder how she would face my day.
As a tribute to her, I thought that I would list some of the special events in the past year in which thoughts of her have accompanied me as I have worn her clothing.
Susan was there to celebrate many big occasions in my life. I’ve celebrated many things wearing her clothes this year. Timothy pinned a mothers pin to one of her jackets when he earned his Arrow of Light. Her clothes have been to concerts, an honor society induction ceremony, and baseball games.
Susan did work for a foundation to benefit schools. I have worn her jackets, blouses, pants, and jewelry to visit classrooms twice a week at our local elementary school. I think she would be happy to know that.
It’s fun to wear some of her more whimsical things when I teach the Young Women.
A special sweater has come along to a girls’ lunch with my sisters and a good visit with my parents in the fall. She loved family gatherings.
For my birthday, I dressed in her red ruffled plaid blouse and a red jacket when I went on a date with my two favorite men, Richard and my dad. Susan loved to go to restaurants and celebrate life.
She was with me when I went Christmas shopping. Wearing her gray jacket and carrying one of her purses, I remembered how she loved giving gifts.
Whenever I think of parties, her’s are the standard. I wore her velvet jacket when I hosted our big Christmas party.
This year, as memories of her have accompanied me everywhere, I have been reminded to be more courageous in my writing, speech, and music; more generous in my praise of others, and more willing to enjoy life. It’s a beautiful inheritance.