The Death of My Pants

February 20, 2008 - Wednesday
Current mood: morose

Today I find myself in mourning. I could barely muster the strength to pull myself out of my grief this morning and get out of bed. Begrudgingly, I brushed my teeth, put on a sweatshirt and jeans and gathered my hair into a messy ponytail. In my state of desperation, the bright sun seems dark. The music I am listening to seems like sheer noise. And the cold winter air seems to sting my body as I jaunt out into a world that knows not the pain infiltrating my soul. It's cruel that the world can continue on, oblivious to the tragedy in my heart.

My favorite pants have died.

These were not any old pair of dress slacks. They were not designer jeans. They were not the epitome of fashion and style. My favorite pants were my men's flannel Santa Claus print pajama bottoms from Old Navy.

My sister gave me these pants as a Christmas gift a long time ago. My mind is in such a state of shock right now, that I can't remember exactly when she gave them to me...but I know it was sometime when I was in college.

These pants were very large. There were many times I would be wearing them, and accidentally flash my underwear to the people around me because the pants wouldn't stay up.

They were red flannel, with vintage Santa Claus heads scattered about, spreading Christmas cheer and smiles to everyone who gazed upon them. They were too long and too big for me, but I loved them anyhow. They tied with a red flannel drawstring.

The pants offered me comfort, not only on my body, but in my heart. They were what made me feel at home after a long day. They were the security wrapped around me when I awoke shaken from a bad dream. They were the protection coating my legs if I spilled coffee on myself. They were my best friend.

One might tend to think that, given the holiday theme of these pants, they would lend themselves to only be worn during the Christmas season. But these pants transcended all seasons. They may have been covered in Santa Claus heads, but they were with me throughout every season of my life, bringing happiness and warmth through the good times and the bad.

They were with me through breakups, make ups, spills, cleanups, sickness, health, laughter, crying, anger, joy....these pants have been a sustaining force in my life since that fateful Christmas day when I carefully tore off the paper surrounding the box in which they were encased. As soon as I set eyes on them, I knew we would be lifelong friends.

But the other day, as I was putting the pants on, I noticed something was amiss. And I gasped in horror as I realized what it was. The fabric had worn and I had ripped a giant hole in the upper thigh of the pants!

I feel like I am partially to blame here. I should have known that the pants were getting on in years, and I should have taken into account that the fabric would be vulnerable and frail. But instead, I was so eager for my instant comfort, that I yanked the pants up and they ripped. I killed the pants in my zeal.

This is not how I had envisioned the end. I thought these pants would be with me forever. And if they weren't with me forever, I figured they would eventually be shipped off to Goodwill, so they could bring the same level of comfort and peace to someone else as they did for me. I thought perhaps I would travel to an exotic location and accidentally leave the pants behind, allowing them to live a new adventure with whomever happened to pick them up. I thought that maybe, just maybe, I would one day give the pants to my own daughter when her first boyfriend broke up with her...so that she could experience their healing power.

I never thought their life would be cut so short, and so abruptly. I am so ashamed of my inattentiveness and my lack of concern. But I know I have to somehow...some way, figure out how to move on without them.

My friends, I admonish you, please be with me during this difficult time. Sometimes I need a friend to tell me a joke and cheer me up; and other times all I need is someone to sit with my quietly as I reflect on these pants that were taken long before their time.

Let's all raise our glasses in loving memory of my Santa Claus pants...They will be missed, but forever celebrated in our hearts!