Monday, August 8, 2016

It's Just A Shirt

This is the very last picture we took with Cody. We had gone up to Oregon after a wedding to visit him and his girlfriend. I hadn't seen them since January and I was shocked and amused at that beard he grew. Troy was more annoyed than anything. Annoyed because he can't grow a beard like that. Cody grew that in 3 months. Troy has had his for about 7 years and that's as long as it's ever going to get. And Cody's outfit? It's the Cody-version of hipster. Because Cody was NOT a trend setter and would hate to be labeled a hipster. He rolled his eyes at me when I asked if that was the look he was after. He was never after any look. He did what he wanted if he liked it and didn't care what anyone else thought about it. I think he mostly embraced this kind of fashion statement because people stared at him trying to figure the whole thing out.  This is what I wrote in his eulogy about this picture:
The last time Troy and I saw Cody was just 5 short days before he died. We had a wonderful visit, full of laughs and good conversation with a bit of fun thrown in for good measure. He was happy. Peaceful. Full of plans for the future. We had breakfast before we headed home that morning. I asked Sydney to take a picture of us before we left. I begged him, like countless times before, to just give me one nice smile for just ONE good picture. He teased me incessantly with that stupid serious crap until I gave up. Little did I know it would be the very last picture. A moment of his silliness and ability to make me laugh and frustrate me all at the same time frozen forever in that last picture.
I took THIS picture last week. It's the shirt I was wearing the last time we saw Cody. The last time I hugged Cody goodbye. This shirt had been sitting in this very spot next to my bed where I took it off at the end of that day. Troy and I hadn't even finished unpacking from our trip when we got that horrible call. So it was just sitting there, a sad reminder every time I crawled in to bed. Until last week. When I finally decided to stop staring at it and hang it back up.

I still can't bring myself to wash it. I'm wondering at this point if I will ever feel like wearing it again. It seems like such a simple thing. I mean, it's just a shirt. What's the big deal? I can't answer that question. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

But I hung it up.

Baby steps.

1 comment:

  1. Your writing is extraordinary. And I get this, we want to somehow create the illusion that nothing has changed. Yet everything has. There is nothing simple after our children are gone.


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