The man seemed happy and grateful. ‘There’s a lot of homeless people,’ he said as he waved his hand. ‘I can share with all of them.’I wiped a dusty wrist across my forehead and squinted into the sun. I had just given away my Christopher’s clothes to two men. This one who had unburdened me of the bags and one large tote was not known to me but he bunked with the man I do know, who had gone to the hospital a few hours earlier. I imagine that Christopher would approve of me giving his things to these men, rather than putting them in one of those bins.Just a few days ago I had shared with a sister-friend that I was not ready to do the closet and dressers. However, there was something that made today the day. In what felt like an instant, I had bagged up everything, except the few items I will keep. Asundry T-shirts, some scuffy socks, pajamas, a robe. I threw away some items since they were either too personal or tattered. How could I face these men on the street, thinking they might be wearing my husband’s old undies?’Thank you so much!’ The man said as he lugged the bags to his shelter.I started the truck and pulled off, smiling. It hurt but not as much as I imagined it might. I gripped the wheel a little tighter, feeling what I imagined were the impressions of Christopher’s fingers. I needed to hold his hand, to know that everything is working out, that he would approve.God knows, but I would like to think so.
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