The Irreverent Widow

by Sandi Amorello

Did you know that when your husband dies, not only do you have to find something for yourself to wear to the funeral, but you are also expected to choose clothing for HIM? I must have been living under a rock.  I had no idea.

When the funeral home men showed up and asked me what I’d like him to wear…. I thought they were joking.  I don’t know what I was thinking.  Maybe I wasn’t.  It was a closed casket…and I guess I was thinking that Drew was going to leave this world the same way he entered it.  Or maybe in whatever it was he was wearing the morning he died. Something light green, perhaps, with letters stamped on it somewhere indicating the name of the hospital that would eventually want it back.   I don’t think he would have cared what he was wearing, to be honest.  He was dead.  But these funeral people cared, that’s for sure. They took their work seriously.

There was no pressure, they said quite politely…but would I please find him some appropriate clothing…before they headed back to funeral home central?  Funeral home people.  What a depressing job. I know someone has to do it…and I am happy that OUR funeral home people were polite and well behaved…but, still, I found myself thinking, “I may be widowed, but at least I don’t work in the funeral business.”

In the final analysis, it really was a no-brainer.  Drew had to wear his favorite clothes, even if they couldn’t zip up the jeans because of his altered state.  Who would ever know, anyway?  Did the great Creator care whether you showed up in a custom-made Italian fine wool suit and a $185 silk tie…or in a 1980′s polyester jogging ensemble and holes in your underwear?  I think not.  Of course, I would never dream of being buried in polyester…but there are people who would probably go that route.  And, really…who cares at that point.

I stood in our bedroom, in front of his closet… and the image came to me as if through divine intervention.  It was inspired funeral fashion.

I am happy to say that I remained true to who he really was…. and that my late, handsome husband is now traversing eternity outfitted in his favorite torn, faded (sexy!) Levis…American flag patterned Ralph Lauren boxer shorts…a white t-shirt with a dancing, hula girl (whose breasts are tastefully covered by a Hawaiian lei) emblazoned on the front, a white button down 100% cotton RL Polo oxford shirt over it…. and bare feet.  I also had them slip into his back pocket a faded, crackly laminated photo of the two of us from our college romance days (which he always kept in his wallet).  I know he can’t take it out to look at it, but it just seemed appropriate that he take me along on his journey into eternity.  You know, just in case we don’t meet up later on…and death is more like a diving board than an endless interconnecting infinity symbol.

When I picture Drew in my mind now, I often see him in those clothes.  Not the way he looked the last time I saw him…but the way I remember him looking in them as he was running out of the house to get us bagels and coffee on any given Saturday morning. Kissing me and the baby goodbye.  A giggling toddler in one arm…and a 7 year old little girl trailing behind, asking “Daddy…can I come along too?”

The answer was always yes.

© 2007 Sandi Amorello/Silver Crayon Studios, Inc.  All rights reserved.
The Irreverent Widow, Silver Crayon Studios and the SC Studios mark are all trademarks of Silver Crayon Studios, Inc.