The Dress

Not long before my mom died, I found myself in a dressing room at Dillards. Standing in front of a mirror, I stared at the price tag and contemplated the cost. $125 for a dress I will only wear on one day, one dreadful day, and never again.

Choosing a dress for your own mother's funeral is a surreal experience. I needed to get it done before she was gone and there was no telling how much time she had left. But, I thought scribbling this errand down on my to-do list along with stopping at the post office and picking up dog food might minimize its significance and make it a little easier.

It didn't.

I slumped down in that sad black dress in the tiny dressing room and cried quiet tears of exhaustion and hopelessness.

I could have stayed there

forever.

I reluctantly bought that overly priced dress and two weeks later, wore it.

It's been two and half years since my mom's funeral and I've worn the black dress only a few times since. It always reminds me of that day, the day I sat in it and cried in a mall dressing room.

It really is the sad black dress.

With Mother's Day approaching, I've thought about dragging it out of my closet. I may even wear it on Sunday to church. With all of the talks, prayers, and blessings about mothers that I know I'll hear that day, maybe I will be able to erase the sad memories I associate with that dress and replace them with gratitude...

gratitude for the mother I was fortunate to have for 33 years.

And...my mom would never want a good dress to go to waste.