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His clothes. They've been quietly hanging in the closet and neatly folded away in the drawers for over a year now. And today I was feeling like it was time to face it. Or at least make a start at it. I spent the entire day trying to make my way through it. I managed to get through the drawers, and it was completely draining. I'm exhausted. Just from looking at them. But I'm not quite ready to decide what to do with the clothes just yet, so I packed them away in boxes and put them in the garage. *sigh*

There are a couple of t-shirts and sweatshirts of Damien's that I like to wear sometimes, so I kept those out. I may give some of the stuff to family and close friends if they want anything. And of course there are some things I will save for Colin. I plan on having a blanket (or two) made from his aloha shirts.

Why does dealing with his clothes seem so difficult? I guess for me they represent so many memories. I can remember what he was wearing when we went here or there, did this or that. And they are the one thing that "looks" like him, if that makes any sense. The pajamas and t-shirts he wore to bed every night, the dress shirts he wore to work, the suit he put on for interviews and special occasions. The jeans and t-shirts that made up his weekends, and his "nicer" button down shirts for when we went out. The aloha shirts and bowling shirts he typically wore when we went dancing. His favorite pull-over fleece jacket. His snowboarding gear. A box full of ties, a drawer full of socks ... a lifetime of memories from every single day we spent together for the last 10 years. How am I supposed to deal with all of that?

Only time will tell, I suppose.