My Father’s Sweater

I hauled piles of clothing to Goodwill when my dad passed away. His brother, my uncle Tony, crowed, “Save that!” over and over. I ignored him. I kept one thing, a tattered Brooks Brothers grey wool sweater with a v-neck. It was my father’s favorite sweater. It had a substantial hole at the right cuff and subtle circles of stains along the ribbed hem.

My father wore his uniform from Brooks Brothers every day: a 100% cotton button down shirt, tan khakis and the grey sweater in the winter, and a 100% cotton knit polo in the summer along with said khakis. He never deviated. When I asked him about his sartorial choices, he said, “I can’t be bothered.” or “Who cares?” Occasionally, he’d scrunch his eyes, peer at me and say, “What is that you have on? Why do you girls dress like that?” Then I’d spin around, head to the kitchen and stew.

When someone died he wore a pin striped suit and an attitude. In the car you might hear, “She killed him with her constant complaining.” or “Serves that son-of-a-bitch right.” The funny thing is that everyone loved my dad. He was an excellent listener and a loyal friend.

My father lived in an old apartment building with small closets. He crammed his clothing across a metal rod. His grey sweater usually laid akimbo on an ottoman in his bedroom. My father died 11 years ago, and it seems like yesterday. Despite my incredibly bad memory now, I remember every detail of his last days, including the instant he passed away. He told me to give the grey sweater to my son Matthew. He wasn’t interested. I put it in a ziplock bag to preserve the scent and placed it on a tall shelf in my closet.

I took his sweater down this morning because we’re installing a 21st century closet. I’m going to miss my metal rod. I had it installed when we moved in. Remarkably, the sweater still smells a tiny bit like my dad. I ironed it and put it on. From above my dad might say, “Jesus Maureen. Why are you wearing that?” I’d say, “Because it’s your favorite sweater, and I miss you.

The day before my father died he said, “I will always be with you.”This morning I said, “I will always be with you too, Dad.” That old grey sweater reminds me how much I miss him. I think he’d respond, “How’s that sweater? Did you get it fixed yet.”