It’s funny what you do after the loss of a loved one. One of the things I thought about today was Raouf’s towel. First, I have to say that my towel collection goes back 26 years. I have all the original towels (minus maybe 4) that we received when we married. Yes, ALL of them – wash cloths and hand towels included. It is not just that I still have them, but have actually carried them to 5 different countries and back. They’ve been in crates and suitcases. They’ve been used by multiple nationalities of guests. They’ve been washed and cloroxed, hung on clothes lines and dried in dryers. Needless-to-say, they’ve seen better days.

But you know what? I can’t give them up! They have such memories. I even have one set of towels with the names of the four children of missionary colleague friends from our days in Egypt! They had to lighten the load of stuff they were taking back, and she reluctantly relinquished her precious (and very soft at the time) monogrammed towels. Even when we returned to the USA, I didn’t offer to send them to the family! Does that make me a towel hog?

Back to the subject…So, of all these towels, we actually only have two that are what you would consider extra-large. These were the two my husband used the most, since they “fit” him better. I was satisfied with any of the “normal” towels in our collection (mostly using the monogrammed ones, I confess). Yet, when Raouf left this world, I claimed his towels. It was a way to remember him, think of his smell, his wet body dripping from the shower. The towels are frayed to the point that my new cat likes to pull at the strings, but I don’t care. I’ve got that memory for as long as the towel holds up, so I’m not letting go yet.

It’s a silly thing, perhaps – right now I just say, it’s a grief thing. Grace and Peace

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