Theme
3:30am December 31, 2014
Among the belongings sent to me after my father died, were his handkerchiefs.  I wasn’t really sure what to do with them.  I didn’t want to blow my nose into them.  So I decided to wear them in my hair instead, like my mom does when she’s doing heavy-duty house-cleaning.  And I really like the way it turned out. Every piece of clothing you see on here is my father’s except the jeans, which are mine.  I’m wearing my father’s handkerchief, my father’s suspenders, and my father’s ultra-comfortable flannel shirt.  The necklace is a see-through stainless steel locket with his beard hairs in it – I will treasure that forever above all of my other jewelry combined.  (And I’m so happy it’s stainless steel, something my body can’t corrode!) I am realizing from the sheer comfort level of his clothes, the sensory sensitivities we must have shared. There’s all these little things, including things about his autism, that I never put together until after he died, or shortly before he died.  They’re maybe things I should’ve known, been more observant, but somehow never did know.  Like the way he and I see rocks is very similar.  When I showed him my rock friends, he understood, and picked out more rock friends for me to send after he died. I have a lot more to say about what wearing his clothes means to me, but right now I lack spoons to do it, and I’m supposed to be taking my meds right now so I’m going to go off and do that.

Among the belongings sent to me after my father died, were his handkerchiefs.  I wasn’t really sure what to do with them.  I didn’t want to blow my nose into them.  So I decided to wear them in my hair instead, like my mom does when she’s doing heavy-duty house-cleaning.  And I really like the way it turned out.

Every piece of clothing you see on here is my father’s except the jeans, which are mine.  I’m wearing my father’s handkerchief, my father’s suspenders, and my father’s ultra-comfortable flannel shirt.  The necklace is a see-through stainless steel locket with his beard hairs in it – I will treasure that forever above all of my other jewelry combined.  (And I’m so happy it’s stainless steel, something my body can’t corrode!)

I am realizing from the sheer comfort level of his clothes, the sensory sensitivities we must have shared. There’s all these little things, including things about his autism, that I never put together until after he died, or shortly before he died.  They’re maybe things I should’ve known, been more observant, but somehow never did know.  Like the way he and I see rocks is very similar.  When I showed him my rock friends, he understood, and picked out more rock friends for me to send after he died.

I have a lot more to say about what wearing his clothes means to me, but right now I lack spoons to do it, and I’m supposed to be taking my meds right now so I’m going to go off and do that.

Notes:
  1. shoujomoretime reblogged this from withasmoothroundstone
  2. vladdraculea reblogged this from withasmoothroundstone
  3. ooksaidthelibrarian reblogged this from withasmoothroundstone and added:
    The clothes all say: yeah, we belong here. It looks *right*, I have no other word for this.
  4. snowhyte said: there is something so beautiful about being able to share such simple things. I’m happy you are having a supportive grief process and able to rethink about how you feel.
  5. coopahlawkz said: Another autistic with rock friends just saying hi
  6. vladdraculea said: This is such a beautiful tribute. I often think about my grandmother and her father (whom I never knew, but heard about a lot) in similar ways. My father and I sometimes talk fondly about his mom and her father. <3 (heart)
  7. cecily-loves-you reblogged this from withasmoothroundstone
  8. withasmoothroundstone posted this