OLD RED SWEATSHIRT

A number of years ago I took my daughter on her college visits. At one west coast university I purchase a red sweat shirt as a remembrance of our trip. You know the basic model, a small hand pouch with side pockets on the front, a hood and the name of the school emblazoned across the front. Over the years that sweatshirt has been my “go to” garment of choice. I try to wear it any time I can, to any and all events.

It’s my adult “blankie.”

My daughter has been out of school for some time now and I have, on more than one occasion, been seen sewing and mending the worn out places on my favorite garment.

Once my family realized that I was never going to part with it we reached the decision that in the end it would be cremated along with this old bag of bones.

Am I equating my red sweatshirt with my father’s blue suit? It’s the thing that he wore for church, weddings, funerals, and the thing he wanted to be buried in. When he died I remember thinking about how that suit contained the memories and energy of many of his life’s significant events. There they were, all entwined with the threads and waiting to be extracted via some breakthrough in quantum physics.

Like my dad’s suit, my red sweatshirt holds many of my significant personal memories. Quantum physics aside, I guess I also want to have it (and those memories) with me at the end.

No amount of washing can remove those. No amount of illness can take them away. When I hold it and smell it can review and revisit all of the memories that are stored up in the fabric.

Do you have a red sweatshirt?