Dressing for sorrow

a how-to guide

First of all, fuck anyone who says clothes are shallow. Also fuck iPhone for still pretending I’m not desperately trying to say fuck. Sometimes fuck is the only word! It was a hard week. My dad had a surgery that had an unexpected complication.

During this time my IG and Substack friends (yes I do mean “friends”) made me feel buoyed when I felt I was only falling falling falling. Thank you for that.

I would like to return the favor with this primer on how to dress for sorrow. So here goes. May you never have to use it.

belt bag + pocket bag and a few tears

1. Dress for it. As in get dressed. You will feel better. Like it’s not all falling apart. Also maybe you’ll give someone else a lift. (When I went in for my dad’s surgery, scared, the first person I saw was a young volunteer, in a hijab and a long floral dress, smiling. It reassured me. That there was civility and attention and hope in this place.)

2. Anything security blanket adjacent is good — bathrobe coat, overlong sleeves, soft fabrics.

   

   the vest kept it from feeling like a schlubby t shirt - so people would see I didn’t feel hopeless and I care

3. Layer, layer, layer. You’ll be freezing in the hospital. And then they’ll “fix” the heat and you’ll be burning up. When he sleeps you may want to take a walk and hope that sun and endorphins do their thing.

4. Wear socks. At other times when he sleeps you’ll suddenly notice you’re exhausted and want put your feet up on the couch in the room and stare into space for a while.

5. Convertible clothes do their work here. A shrug turns into a scarf and a pillow and a pair of sleeves.

sunrise from the hospital room

6. Know that you might end up sleeping over. Why? Because you’re scared and want to suck up every moment together. And because you know the deep disorienting loneliness of waking up in a hospital in the middle of the night and you’d do anything for him not to feel it. Wear loose clothes you can sleep in. The nurse will make an exception and let you stay.

7. Take a workhorse of a bag with all manner of pockets and force yourself to return each item you use to its proper place. Otherwise in your stress, you’ll constantly be searching for that card, that cord, that everything.

8. And wear a belt bag with your ID in it; they may ask for it when you return from a walk to a shift change.

9. Wear talismans for prayer. So I admit, I do this. I wear his belts. Pants that remind me of his army reserve uniform. A vest that for me is a tribute to his gentlemanliness (even if mom says it makes me look like a blacksmith). With each of these items I try not to pray that he will live forever — that’s too much pressure. No one does. Though he will live forever through me if I do this right. So I pray that I can.

10. Stay layered even when the weather changes. When fall feels like spring. When you head home, shaken, to Miami. You’ll turn off the freezing, blowing air above, but the guy next to you won’t turn off his. And your coat will be your comfort and company. This leg you do alone.

    

    heading home

    

    the pre surgery party

    
    My dad is OK now. And eventually, I will be too.