So yesterday my sister and I decided to clean out all of my dad's clothes. My mom wanted the space, but she couldn't bring herself to do it, so she asked us. I wanted to take the t-shirts and make a quilt out of them. My sister is making some pillows.

So we started digging through all of his stuff, and it was way harder than I ever thought it would be. We cried the entire time as we dug through all of his familiar clothes. You could still smell him on the clothes.

We made three piles - one for me, one for my sister, and one for Good Will. My good friend Mel helped us bag everything up. It was so hard. It was almost like getting rid of his clothes made it real that he was gone. Like we were finalizing it. It felt so wrong to get rid of so many years of clothes.

I tried reminding myself that his clothes are just material things. Getting rid of them does not mean we are getting rid of his memory. It was just so hard. Especially when I found a pair of jeans with his belt still in them. I couldn't bear to throw the belt away. I have no idea what I'll do with it, but I couldn't bring myself to get rid of it.

Now I can start the daunting task of cutting everything up for my quilt. I think that will be so hard to. But I guess I can make this into a very theraputic thing.