It took nearly two years for me to find the courage, but yesterday my family and I went through my daughter Jessica’s clothes and belongings. Since she had lived at both her father’s and my homes, her father had already gone through several bags and boxes of clothes, shoes, and mementos, but I had six or seven huge boxes of tightly packed clothes that had arrived from LA after Jess passed. Plus, so much of her life had been stored in her old bedroom at my house where I still have my mother’s things. Needless to say, that’s not a room I choose to spend time in as the memories are too overbearing and the sadness of loss overwhelms me.

Jess’ dad, her stepmom, sister, younger half-sister, and I went through enough clothing to cover a small village (or surely to fill a garment store). Jess loved fashion and thrift-store shopping and was a model for several years. She had no “off” button for clothes and shoe shopping! And each piece of clothing, including an entire box of underwear and bras, had to be sorted one-by-one with everyone looking on to see who would claim what. OK, I was the only one unable to part with my baby’s underwear. You have to be a mom who has lost a child to understand. There were some worn-out shoes that could not be trashed as well, as they were my girl’s favorites. And aside from her little sister, all of us found loads of our own clothes in Jessie’s things. Jess was definitely a bit of a magpie.

I held each item to my nose trying to get a whiff of Jess, and sometimes I could, just a drifting scent of her choice of soap or perfume or maybe just the smell of her skin. I cried. No I sobbed. Everyone else held it together, but I couldn’t help feeling that we were deconstructing my dear daughter’s life, taking it apart stitch-by-stitch, attaching value as we saw fit and deciding what should be kept and what should go. Her life—her living—was strewn across the hardwood floor as each piece of her was added to one or another pile. I felt Jessie with us, looking on, wanting to caress the things she had loved. And I wanted in some ways to keep it all, to cling to each piece of her and never let go, hoping that somehow I could have my child back alive with many years of living ahead of her.

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But I’ve at least initially made it through this huge hurdle. There are still numerous boxes of clothes and shoes that none of us chose to keep (mainly because most of her clothes wouldn’t fit us—lots of “too bigs” and “too smalls” but not many “just rights.”) Jess was about 5 foot 10 and wore something like a size 2 in pants! Tall and narrow like Olive Oil, her personal cartoon character. So now, I’m going to invite all her friends to look through the boxes and take whatever they’d like. I would love for Jess’ things to be kept by those who knew and loved her. The final stop for most of what’s left will be WEAVE’s (Women Escaping A Violent Environment) clothing store for women who need professional clothes to enter the job field. Jess would love to know that she was helping women in this way.

I’m hoping someday to have cleared out everything in my home that needs sorting and to have a treasure chest filled with Jessica’s things, the pieces of her life that I want to hold onto to remember the special moments. I deeply desire to be able to move though my whole house without feeling oppressed by the external reminders of my losses. I want to repaint both of the girls’ rooms with lighter colors that will uplift my soul, and replace the boxes with art and comfortable furniture. These are my hopes and desires. Like everything else in this grief, it will take time to accomplish, but at least there is now some light to move toward in the future. I know my girl will be there with me.