Moving At My Own Private Pace

(A stack of my son's freshly laundered clothing. The big plaid on the top stack is a pair of his shorts. I always loved when he wore his "tablecloth" shorts!)

We got a new washer and dryer recently and today my husband and one of his friends (mostly the friend!) installed both of them. You know how it is when you install a new washer and dryer, you look around for laundry to do.

My son was a clothes horse. We used to tease him about having more clothes than a girl. Every time he got a little extra money he spent some of it on clothing. I fussed at him for having way more than he needed.

It's coming up on eight months and I still have piles of his laundry sorted out in his room. His friend brought it back from Pennsylvania not long after he died and it took me a while just to get in there and sort it all.

Since I had a new washer and dryer so I figured I'd grab a load or two and work on getting his clothes washed. I still have lots to go. But having washed a couple of loads, I am reluctant to wash more. It almost feels like if I wash it all, I'm going to wash him away. By that I mean the smell of him. When I go in there now I can still smell him. It's almost comforting to see his clothes lying around waiting to be washed.

And if I wash all his clothes then I will be obligated to do something with them. I am not in a hurry to do that. I still need time. It would seem silly to have them all washed and hung up and folded, waiting for a boy to come home who is not coming home.

I found this photo in one of my old files the other day. I probably made it about five or six years ago. It pains me that I can not find the original photo that I used for this. I believe he is sitting on the porch steps at my sister's house one Thanksgiving but I am not sure. I'd like to find it. I was talking earlier on Facebook about how I wished I had a photo of his hands. This would have been a good one. Maybe I'll find it. I sure hope so.