I found a dozen work shirts, all imprinted with the company logo. It was easier to give up the work shirts, pants, and shoes, the ones he wore only when he was away from me.
But there were others that carried paragraphs in their stitching.
I found the blue one I bought him for Father's Day.
The chocolate brown one he wore for a family photo session last summer.
The maroon one he often wore on dates with me.
The white one he wore on our second honeymoon last summer. During our oceanside dinner.
Sweatshirts I'm saving for me.
T-shirts I'm saving for a quilt, I hope.
Baseball hats of many varieties - mostly scarlet and gray, variations of Ohio State emblems, each either spotted with sweat or flawless from display.
I held close the shirts he loved, those which are faded, frayed around the edges, and so very worn.
I remembered the ones he hated. Barely worn at all.
I found some that I hated, worn far too much. :)
I cleaned, sorted, chose things to keep, chose things to share, and set aside the ones that were too painful to think about yet.
I sorted through a million memories. I kept many of my favorites. Many.
I cried, but I also laughed. We had so much fun together, that man and me.
But his life is not in those clothes, and neither are the memories. I will remember him in my writing, our conversations, the blog, and our letters. That's where I'll keep him.
Robb doesn't need those clothes. And I'm pretty sure somebody else does.
God bless the man who will wear the clothes Robb no longer needs.
May he be blessed in abundance, just as we have been.