March 2025 SOLC–Day 22
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My hands remain empty.
It’s a small thing, right? Nothing to get upset about. My Patriots shirt is a poor substitute, but it could work. Even if it’s not what I want.
But where can it be?
I yank the clothes off my closet shelves, quickly sorting, refolding, searching.
Where is it?
Where did I go?
It’s bright blue. It shouldn’t be hard to find.
I wrack my brain trying to figure out where I put it. It has to be here somewhere.
In his obituary it stated, “a lifelong and frustrated fan of Detroit sports teams.” And I’m sure I wrote a poem once, in gratitude to the Lions for the distraction they offered him as he wasted away.
Kurt surprised me with this jersey the Christmas after he died. This jersey I can’t find. I sobbed when I pulled it out of the box.
Giving up my search as time runs out, I quickly search for that poem on my computer (I know I wrote one! Is that lost, too?), and somehow his obituary pops up.
And suddenly…there’s his face.
Oh.
My hand lifts as if to touch the screen.
“I miss you Dad,” I whisper.
Later, I step into the rainy morning wearing the Patriots t-shirt. But what’s missing weighs me down.
All. Day. Long.
Nix the comfort zone 
So much in these lines. Memories, emotions, love. Grief has a way of gut-punching every now and then. I understand.
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Grief definitely surprises me now and again.
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*tears*
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Oh! The missing is so heavy. We feel it along with you in the frenzied search and the touch of the computer screen. “But what’s missing weighs me down.”
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I can relate to the frantic search for the shirt. The see oak objects that connect us to those who’ve passed are invaluable. So glad you found the shirt and had a day of missing him. Those days come and they do matter.
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Thanks. I actually didn’t find the jersey…at least not yet. I do know that it’s here somewhere though…
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Sending you a big hug ❤️❤️ we feel it all alongside you in this piece.
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Thanks, Amy!
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Your slice today is charged with energy and emotion – the frantic search for something lost, the finding of another loss that you didn’t mean to stumble across but did – and all the feels that go with the moment. We never know when those moments of grief will reach out and take us in.
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Grief definitely does not follow a linear path!
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This is filled with such emotion, from the frantic search, to seeing the obituary, to the weight of missing of him.
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Oh my gosh – I’m so glad you found the shirt, and shared how tangled up in memories finding it was.
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“What’s missing weighs me down”
What a line, Molly.
Sending you a virtual hug!
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Thanks, Ana. I appreciate it!
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Touching tribute with a dynamite ending. “Later, I step into the rainy morning wearing the Patriots t-shirt. But what’s missing weighs me down.
All. Day. Long.”
On a lighter note, the Slice title had me thinking this was going to be about the state of my birthplace – New Jersey. Though I couldn’t wait to escape NJ as a teenage for California, then Arizona, I still like to say I’m a Jersey Boy.
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My dad was actually from New Jersey, too! I’m not sure I ever told you that.
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Where in Jersey was your dad from?
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Glen Ridge
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Glen Ridge! Fair Lawn for me. 13 miles and 20 minutes apart!
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Ahhh. I had a similarly frustrating and detouring search the other night, looking for a photo to go with my slice. I didn’t find it, but like you, found many other things to catch me off guard and make me sigh even more. I think there is some connection between the search for missing objects and the wish for finding missing loved ones. The objects are so frustrating because we know we actually CAN resurrect them. The loved ones, well, we can resurface the memory and the emotion, but not the person. I too, am struck by the last line. It carries so much meaning and weight.
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“I think there is some connection between the search for missing objects and the wish for finding missing loved ones.” Such interesting thoughts about how we know we can resurrect the objects…but not the loved ones, outside of “the memory and the emotion.” Thanks so much for your thoughtful comment.
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Aww, heartbreaker slice. “Later, I step into the rainy morning wearing the Patriots t-shirt. But what’s missing weighs me down.” ❤️🩹 It’s poignant the way you convey the fact that even though you found the jersey, and you can hold it in your hands, what’s lost is bigger and can’t be retrieved physically. I’m very sorry for your loss.
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Thank you, Stephanie.
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[…] Inspired by mbhmaine’s Jersey Day post. […]
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Molly, you have conveyed so much emotion and heart through an interesting and surprising format. I can see you in the Patriots shirt. I’m sorry for the loss and the sadness of this day.
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Thanks, Denise. Grief can sneak up on you sometimes.
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Oh no, so sad. You have conveyed your feelings so well in such a touching post.
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You captured such a tender moment. Grief sneaks up on us when we least expect it. I’m sorry to hear that you lost your dad. He sounds like a pretty amazing person.
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Thanks! Grief is sneaky.
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“What’s missing weighs me down.” Hugs, my friend. I get it all too well.
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