Last week it was freezing cold here and I pulled out my father’s cashmere coat. It may be a little big for me; and then again, not at all. The coat is long, mid-calf length and totally blocked the cold wind. I was warm and comfy. Wearing the coat took me back to Dad wearing long overcoats to church. (I still miss the nubby brown and black twead, full one he had when I was a little girl; but that is another story.)
When I wear Papa’s cashmere coat, I am surrounded with loving memories, not just of him, but the whole family and growing up in the 50’s when men still wore wool overcoats and everyone wore hats to church. Maybe they still do? Life has gotten so much more casual. Some things are forgotten as the years go by.
My dad died last August. He was 93, surrounded by people he loved and who loved him, they were singing hymns and he was talking to those around him. He just faded away — loved, respected and honored. Dad’s clothes were offered to the nephews and nieces. No one wanted his cashmere coat. It came home with me.
Love comes in all shapes and sizes. This time in came in the shape of Papa’s Cashmere Coat. Much love and big hugs to all!