The Jacket

The summer heat can be taxing in all its exuberant glory. It is a challenge to keep the house cool, and I look forward every day to going swimming in our pool that my husband keeps sparkling clean and refreshingly cold. The sunflowers sway in the occasional breeze, already partially drooping a bit, heavy with the strong sun this summer season. The grass looks scorched, reminding me of the lawns in Texas. Our garage is definitely the hottest place, a blast of heat leaving it every time we go in there to get some cool juice or soda out of the extra fridge we have down there. As the heat becomes an accepted challenge, a certain melancholy creeps in, wondering when a bit of cooler weather and rain will bring some relief. When I went into the garage a few days back, I brushed against an old jacket my husband keeps in there, hanging up on the back of the door, to wear on cold days when he does maintenance on one of our cars. Perhaps it was really the heat, perhaps not, but the sight and feel of the old, battered jacket stirred a sense of loss and sadness. I was reminded of a deeply touching scene in "Brokeback Mountain", where Ennis, played by Heath Ledger, finds a shirt of his killed lover Jack, played by Jake Gyllenhaal, when he goes to Jack's house. He picks up the shirt and smells it, and the emotions ensuing are obviously very powerful for him. What is it about touching something that belongs to someone we love? My husband's jacket is old and worn, but just seeing it hanging there fills me with a bittersweet realization that understands time is something that cannot be stopped, it moves forward meticulously, without hesitation or mercy, and when we are gone, the things that made us who we were, remain behind. Clothes, books, pictures, artwork, cars, tools, pillows, blankets, wallets,... ordinary things that identified us as individuals, and that are left behind, like emotional skeletons, soft and eery. Like pieces of a mystery we cannot solve, we leave behind clues that only reinforce our helplessness when it comes to loss and death. We do not understand the necessity of our demise and the demise of those we love, and no matter how we treasure the things our loved ones leave behind, they do not add any pieces to the puzzle of human existence. They do give us some comfort ,the temporary illusion that the loved person is still near somehow, in a faded scent or touch of a favorite sweater or piece of jewelry or picture. There is no insight, no hint, only a sense of being a detective at a case where there will forever be questions and no answers. The only thing we can do is breathe deeply the gift of each day, grateful that our loved ones are still with us, alive and well, for hopefully quite a number of years.