The months-long delay between Dad’s death and the funeral service felt like a good idea. I firmly believe in making decisions based on facts, not feelings. In this case, my sibling-centric vote fell between feelings and facts. Delay seemed like a good idea. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As Friday closes in, I cradle some regret. I should have voted for closure. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The premise is that more of the family could safely get to Maine in June than in February, and summertime in Maine is a much more pleasant affair. Travel to Maine comes with costs. The five of us surmised that people could make it a time for respite from their busy lives. We set it for a Friday instead of a Saturday to avoid tying someone up on one of their few available warm-weather weekends. It made sense to us at the time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In the early stages of our new normal, one of my sisters mentioned having memory pillows created using his commonly worn shirts. I’d never heard of this, but it’s a thing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The pillows’ online purveyors asked for outrageous amounts of cash, which tempered the desire. My mother had already given me a few of my Dad’s shirts, which I’d simply rotated into my wardrobe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I saved one piece of now stale Wrigley’s Spearmint gum\u2014found in one shirt pocket\u2014 to be chewed sometime this Friday\u2014when the moment feels right. He loved Wrigley’s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I remember him giving me hugs when I was small, rubbing his cold cheeks and late-day stubble across my face, smelling of Juicy Fruit intertwined with subtleties from the dissipating scent of his morning dose of Old Spice aftershave.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dad’s tastes matured, moving from Juicy Fruit gum in the sixties and seventies to the more regal scent of spearmint in his latter years. However, he wouldn’t have turned down a stick of the fruity flavor if you offered. I digress.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wrote some things about my Old Man after losing him, the only form of therapy that I currently subscribe to. Several readers and commenters reiterated the mementos crafted into pillows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anne, a long-time reader, sent me a private message to offer her skills and service in creating the pillows. We chatted back and forth; I’ll share some excerpts\u2014I think it tells a better story.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“\u2026I just thought I would offer. This is not a scam; I love your stories. Losing a parent is heartbreaking, and having something made with clothing, to me, is special. If you are interested, we could come up with a meeting destination. No, not Florida, somewhere in Maine. If you are interested, let me know. Yes, some people do things at no cost. I will be going to see my granddaughter in California all of April, but otherwise, I should be available to meet\u2026”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Anne told me she’d have time in late summer and that I could expect the pillows before Christmas. She was under the impression that we’d already had my Dad’s funeral. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I kept the bag of shirts on my counter, sometimes forgetting what the bag contained. Thus, I can give you some insight into why I keep things in view and my counter often cluttered. When my S.O. swings by, she normally reorganizes, but she allowed the shirts to stay right where I put them, knowing their importance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In May, I got this message from Anne\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Hi TC, I am back from a fantastic month in California with my granddaughter. It’s bittersweet, for sure. So, I am giving you some dates I have available to meet up with you during the next two weeks to collect your Dad’s shirts to make pillows. If one of these dates is not good for you, I can look at future dates or throw a few dates at me that are good for you.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could meet you at Exit 180 Bangor Dysarts. I hope this location works. I can also visit a friend in Bangor on the same day. I am open as far as the time of day. You pick, but not 6 a.m., please, LOL. I’m on retired hours\u2026”<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Well, Anne and I met at a truck stop. We had a wonderful chat in a May sunbeam with the elegant rattle of diesels surrounding us. Anne spent her life working with the Maine legislature at the State House. I gave her the shirts my little sister had selected for material; Anne reiterated that she had a busy summer but promised a before-Christmas delivery date. I told her there was no rush. We hugged. I am not a hugger, but this felt appropriate.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I focused on moving forward. We moved my Mom to an island with my sister, downsizing her possessions. Coming soon after the downsizing of her household from two to one, there were a few struggles. Spring was tough; there’s nothing more to say about that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In my columns and writings, I certainly inadvertently slip into details of my average life\u2014it’s what writers do. I know that I hadn’t mentioned that my Dad’s funeral was coming up this week until this past Monday, the very same day that Anne messaged me to let me know the pillows were done. Good things come year-round, not always at Christmas. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This was her message\u2014followed by the photo of the five completed pillows.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

“Guess what?” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

Anne told me that one night a week ago, she woke up in the middle of the night and was overcome with the feeling that she needed to finish my pillows. The following morning, she got to work, completing the pillows\u2014they were beautifully done.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

We met again at a truck stop\u2014in Newport, Maine. Anne Dumont, naturally, provided the pillows in gift bags with tags for me to fill out. She also offered the proper amount and shade of tissue paper to top off each gift bag. Anne knew she was dealing with a man.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maine ladies do things like this. I know, I know, there are women like Anne D. all over this great nation. They are sympathetic, empathetic, crafty, and skilled. Women make men look like layabouts\u2014I stand by that credo.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Naturally, and as expected, Anne did not desire any compensation, but we worked through that.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No matter the price paid, it cannot be compared to the love and concern stitched into each of my father’s shirts after Anne’s midnight epiphany that has no earthly explanation. We talked at length about that, still surrounded by the clatter of the mechanized world and the odor of diesel and gas fumes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

She shared with me the loss of her father thirteen years ago. They were close. She still misses him. We hugged again, but this time tighter. Dad’s hugs tend to be tighter.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

From the Jagged Edge of America, I remain,<\/p>\n\n\n\n

TC<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The months-long delay between Dad’s death and the funeral service felt like a good idea. I firmly believe in making decisions based on facts, not feelings. In this case, my sibling-centric vote fell between feelings and facts. Delay seemed like a good idea. As Friday closes in, I cradle some regret. I should have voted…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"pgc_meta":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[17,19,1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-76876","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-blog-posts","category-home-posts","category-uncategorized"],"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/76876","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=76876"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/76876\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=76876"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=76876"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.timcottonwrites.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=76876"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}