There I stood. Transfixed, by the solemn nature of the moment, and the sobriety of the task at hand.
Countless times, I had prepared a person's belongings to be sold. Always with the understanding, it was primairly because they had outlived their usefullness to the owner. However, this would be the first instance, in which the garnments had outlived their owner. So as I took the deceased's clothes in my hands, and cradled their dried and brittle texture between my fingers, it was then I realized how cheap and fleeting life truly was. How crude, callious, and unfair, the entire process really is.
His lover's words echoed throughout my head, like a broken record. "No longer with us...No longer with us...". The brutal reality of the situation, and the underlying message being related to me, was enough to make my stomach roll, and my heart momentairly skip a beat. As I looked at his lover's face, observed his gaunt appearance, and the sickly, pronounced bone structure of this profile, I couldn't help but wonder, if one day, someone would be bringing me his clothes, to be re-sold as well.
So it was with trembling hands, and a heavy heart, that I went about my duties of preparing the deceased's attire.
The pungent aroma of cigarette smoke, seemed to be permanently embeded in the leather. It's smokey scent eminating from it a history. The chapters written in the confines, of bars, nightclubs, and other assorted establishments. Places which, quite possibly, he would have experienced the best times, of his short-lived life. Purging them as best I could, it almost felt like a sacrilige. As if I was sanatizing the last, remaining bits of evidence, of whatever happiness he had known. And if it was indeed happiness, that he had experienced most when wearing these clothes, I pondered why he would not have been buried in them, in the first place. To me, at least, this seemed the logical conclusion.
Revitalizing the leather with oil, it began to breath new life, into his chaps and vest. So small in size, he must have presented the most streamlined character. His dimensions sleek and refined. Almost athletic in structure. When I contemplated his appearance near the end of his life, again, I began to inwardly mourn. How ironic, I thought. That somebody I'd never met in life, could so profoundly affect me emotionally.
Polishing the PVC brim of his cap, I finished my chores. With a great deal of reverence, I priced them, and place them amongst the other objects to be sold. Each item taking with it, it's own unique sliver, of his memory.
And in addition to that, a piece of my heart.
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