FashBlog.com

Just for the heck of it, I’m going to write a goodbye letter to the fashion items that get left behind by our loved ones. I think it should go something like this:

Dear clothes and jewelry and purses and shoes that got left behind,

It’s appropriate that I tell you just how much you mean to me. It’s only right that you hear the whole story. Forget about my seeing you on my loved one for these many years. My dear (mother, grandmother, sister, aunt, friend, fill in the blank) loved all of you, and was excited when she brought each and every one of you home from the store. It’s very sad that she will not be enjoying you any longer. I know you hung in dark closets and sat in her drawers for months on end, wondering when you’d see daylight again, but there were weeks that your owner never even got outside. Then there were even worse weeks when a hospital gown was the outfit of the day, and it didn’t matter that it didn’t co-ordinate with her slippers or robe. Even though the time eventually came that material items were the last thing on her mind, be assured that when you were first new, you brought a lot of joy into her life, albeit minor, in the big picture of life. Regardless of what you cost, or how many complements you received, you had the honor of being chosen by someone with high standards. Know that everything possible was done to keep you looking your best.

When your owner left us for a better place, some of her treasured belongings were deemed as items that could offer more hours of service to folks who would greatly appreciate them. As you may also know, it was time for others to be retired. Some of what fit me was moved into my closet for awhile. And you who remain have the privilege of staying around, in a long retirement, just because you once belonged to her. Every time I’m in your presence, I’m struck by the irony of life. You are trip down memory lane, and each one of you has meaning. I often wonder what will become of you in the future. Will you, once lovingly tended, find yourselves at a flea market, blending in with other stuff that's no longer wanted?

It’s been over eight years since your owner left, but she’s still here in many ways, especially in you. You had purpose to her, and, therefore, significance to me. I see no sense in getting rid of that which would have no meaning to someone else. Although some of your partners were given away, you are mine. To throw you away seems disrespectful, like saying you no longer matter, when, in a way, you matter more than you did when being used. The funny thing is, “stuff” is taken for granted when a loved one is alive. There is poignancy about it once the owner is gone, though. It becomes the last fragments of a person, tangible memories that are merely representative yet still appreciated. We don’t need physical reminders of our loved ones, but can’t help holding them dear. Money doesn’t buy happiness directly, but every so often, little trinkets bought with it by a loved one can bring happiness when their owners are gone. It seems silly; it seems sentimental, but it is what it is, and I think we call it love. I loved my mother in one way, and knowing that you served her, I love you in a different way. I am glad you were there to provide comfort, enjoyment, and pleasure. Someday you may be owned by others, but right now, I’ll take care of you as much as you’ve taken care of us. Thank you.

To those of you reading this at a sorrowful time in your life, know that there is no need to make rash decisions. Your loved one’s belongings aren’t going anywhere, so take time in deciding what to do with them. Allow some to live out their useful existence, and keep what brings you joy.