Though he took the yellow sweatshirt anyway.
The next time I saw the yellow sweatshirt he was wearing it and he told me he was using it at work. I knew I would never get my yellow sweatshirt back. I never saw the yellow sweatshirt again and when I asked him what had happened to it, he said, "Probably when I moved it either went to Goodwill or I lost it."
This weekend, when my granddaughter from Erie, Colorado and my granddaughter from California were staying with me, on top of their backpacks I saw a yellow sweatshirt. I picked it up and it looked so familiar that I told my daughter, "Do you remember me buying a yellow sweatshirt like this when I was in California a few years ago?" She didn't. I continued, "Is this your daughter's sweatshirt?" She told me that she had no idea because now that her daughter was in San Francisco she did not know what clothes she had brought to Colorado. I couldn't help thinking how strange that the yellow sweatshirt stirred a vague recollection in me. Maybe it was a similar one.
Later that day, I picked up the yellow sweatshirt again and asked both granddaughters, "Whose yellow sweatshirt is this?" What a surprise I got when my Colorado granddaughter said, "It used to be my Dad's and I have it now." Immediately, tears came to my eyes. The yellow sweater had come full circle and I was happy that she had something she could wear that belonged to her father. She did not know the history of the sweater and to think, it was exactly one year since my son had passed away. I also felt better that my mind was not playing tricks on me and that it was the yellow sweatshirt I had purchased!
This past weekend, where ever we went, I felt as if my son was with us every time I saw the yellow sweater.