Today

Tears in her voice, she says he has gone through some of Jen’s stuff.  There are two sealed boxes waiting for charity pickup and do I want any of her shoes?  The sealed boxes contain just pants, he had said.  I told her to open the boxes.  We have every right to go through her stuff.

An hour later she calls back.  It’s not just pants she says.  He’s a liar.  She doesn’t know what time the charity is coming and do I want to come over and look through her clothes?

I pack up my Sunshine.  A few minutes later I’m sitting on the floor, surrounded by my sister’s pants, shorts, pajamas, running clothes, bathing suits, t-shirts.  A lot of the clothes I have never seen and I don’t want to wear her old clothes.  But then I unearth a stack of t-shirts that mean a lot to us as a family and my mom loses it, overwhelmed with tears and rage.  An old bag, faded with use, is stuffed in the bottom.  I want it but I let my mom take it.  I keep one t-shirt, a long sleeve shirt that I also had but wore so much that it basically disintegrated.  Hers is also worn and faded.

We finish taping the boxes closed just as the charity pulls up.  I go home and put my Sunshine in her play area then I stand in the kitchen and smell her t-shirt, hold it close to my chest, hug it and close my eyes as my tears fall silently down my cheeks.