Shopping For Clothes Isn't Always A Happy Occasion

Sometimes buying new clothes isn't any fun. I had to buy some male dress clothing yesterday, for an upcoming occasion. I don't often wear men's dress clothes, and I've lost so much weight since I last needed to wear them, what I have in my closet no longer fits. But I'm not sad because I had to buy men's clothing. I'm sad because of the reason I'm going to have to wear them.

Some of you know that I go to my mother's on Monday evenings, for supper with my family. That usually means Mom, my older sister (the one I recently came out too), my twin sister, her husband, occasionally one or both of my two nieces, and the occasional odd guest one of the regulars might invite. For the last few weeks, instead of gathering at my mother's, we've been going to my twin sister and brother-in-law's house.

For the last five years, my twin has been battling metastatic lung cancer that had spread to her brain, and it was taking it's toll on her mobility. With a combination of chemo therapy and gamma radiation, she had done so well for so long, but this last year she finally had to have brain surgery, to remove a mass that the gamma radiation could not handle. Physically, she recovered well from the surgery, but we soon began to notice a marked decrease in her cognitive abilities. Her mobility began to deteriorate too. She eventually got to the point where she had to use a walker all of the time, and it would literally take her five minutes to get from my mother's front door, to the dining room table. About five weeks ago, it got to where it was just too difficult for her to get ready and come to mom's place, so we moved our weekly supper to her house. Each week I noticed more deterioration. She couldn't even get from her walker into a chair without help, and she was becoming increasingly incoherent. She would try to participate in our conversations, but after a few words, she would lose her train of thought, pause and then finish with something totally random and unrelated to the conversation. Each week it got worse. This week, rather than coming to the table in the kitchen, she stayed in her hospital bed, that
had been placed in the dining room, so she wouldn't have to climb the stairs to her bedroom. She has been receiving hospice care, and this week they gave my brother-in-law a handbook, on how to deal with someone in their last days, and what to expect. He said he will be surprised if she makes it to Christmas, and that she may only have three or four weeks left.

Before I left, I went into her room and sat with her for awhile. She doesn't seem to be suffering. In fact she appeared happy I was there, but she talked gibberish to me. I just smiled and did my best to keep from bursting into tears. After a while, I told her I had to go, and reached down to caress her face, and give her a kiss. When I pulled away, she reached up to me smiling, and I caressed and kissed her again. It was everything I could do to contain myself. I kissed my mom, and on the way out I hugged my older sister. It was only when I was safely in my car and driving away, that I allowed the tears to flow.

So, when I got home, I went on line, and started looking for clothes to wear to my sister's funeral. It was without a doubt the most unhappy shopping I have ever done.

Melissa