Today, I am doing something that has made me weep all day. I am doing Andy’s laundry for the last time. It has been almost 22 months since he died, and I had not been able to do it. Every time I picked up the clothes to try, I would smell him. I would smell that dirty boy smell that used to make me wrinkle my nose and tell him that he needed to shower.
A week or two ago, Eric Larson told me that his cloths didn’t smell anymore. Someone told me several months ago that would happen and that I should bag them up, but I wanted to leave them in the hamper all twisted up and inside out just like he left them. I guess I just wanted to be able to look in there and ‘see’ a little bit of the messy boy that I lost.
Recently, I have noticed that Peter’s golf shorts and swimsuits are getting way too small. I knew it was time to dig out Andy’s before Peter outgrew them as well. I found one pair of golf shorts in his drawer and then I thought about the hamper. Inside was a second pair of golf shorts that he wore in the days before he died. Also in the hamper were two swimsuits that Peter could wear.
I smelled the laundry. Nothing. No smell at all. I picked up an especially dirty looking sock and held it up to my nose and mouth. Nothing. Not a bit of that dirty boy smell. I wept then. Big tears. Sobbing. Longing for a hint of my son that is no longer here.
I then decided to do what I had thought was unthinkable. I washed the clothes. After I pulled out those three items, there wasn’t much left – two more pairs of shorts for Peter, his favorite Chelsea shirt and PJs, his favorite Rapids shirt and socks and underwear. I sorted them one last time with the family laundry and started washing.
I have folded and put away the first load, some going in Peter’s drawers and some in Andy’s. That green Rapids shirt is now dirty again covered in my own tears before being hung back in Andy’s closet. Two more loads to fold and then it will be done forever.
I’m still not sure if it was the right choice or not. I’ve cried about it all day, but picking up that hamper and not smelling anything was so painful, too painful. It seemed better to see Peter wear at least a couple of things for a few months before he gets too big to wear any of it at all. And this way I can pull those favorite shirts out of his closet and cry into them on hard days like today.
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Hi Andy’s Mom, my name is Brian Rose and I have listen to some of your stories. I lost my son Brian on March 21 2018 to suicide at the age of 13.
I have so much in common about are boys. I can’t listen to all your episodes as in pains me to much, but try to listen when my spirits are high so I don’t fall so low after.
Your laundry story really resonates with me for my wife and I have not washed ours and are close to us in the bedroom on or dresser and in a corner where I have all his belongings that I don’t want his brother to get and loose or wreck, like his skateboard we had built together and his air soft gun etc.
I know are hearts ache together and one day when I am strong again I would love to tell you how are boys are so much alike that it astonishes me. Take care.
Hi Andy’s Mom,
I just wanted to say, your podcast has been helping me in the 32 days since losing my beautiful one year old, Sophia. In the week after she passed, I remember doing her last load of laundry. It was very difficult for me as well, knowing this would be the last time. Sophia had a rare terminal illness that is not well understood, so we knew she would likely have a very short life but we also did not know what to expect. Even though we “knew” her diagnosis was terminal we were so hopeful with new research, and were so unprepared for her death. Hearing your story and the stories of other parents on your podcast has helped me, although my grief is still very raw and very new. Thank you for sharing Andy with us. I hope he and Sophie have met in Heaven, and that she is giving him one of her sweet smiles <3
Dear Andy’s mom,
Thank you for sharing from the depths of your heart. We are out here reading and listening to your words. Our hearts are breaking too. There’s no magic bullet for this. But know that you are not alone in your grief.
Carol
Thank you Carrol.
Sorry for spelling your name wrong.
I feel your pain as smells/scents are tied so closely to memory and when those smells are tied to our sweet kids who are no longer with us, they cut so deeply. For me, it’s Johnson baby shampoo. Sobbing along with you and holding you close—
Our son died 9/1/2018 and we still haven’t washed the jammies he was wearing that the paramedics ripped off of him. Just feels way to hard and the end of it all.
Our son died 9/1/2018 and we still haven’t washed the jammies he was wearing that the paramedics ripped off of him. Just feels way to hard and the end of it all.