A beautiful blue and pink plaid shirt hangs in Patrick’s closet. It is soft, rich flannel that brought out the blue of his eyes, just as it did my dad’s eyes. My mom gave it to Patrick, along with a number of my dad’s shirts and sweaters.

My father died on August 8, 2008, a date that was special in its roundness and also because it was the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympics. My mom waited for a few months before tackling his closets, and she farmed out as much as she could to her brother and son-in-law. Patrick accepted my father’s clothes willingly, though most of them stayed untouched in his closet. The blue and pink flannel was an exception. I loved seeing him in that shirt! I loved seeing my father in that shirt!

I query Google in full sentences: “What are the signs of a toddler urinary tract infection?”; “How do I match wall color paint?”; “What do I do with the deceased’s clothes?” In most cases, Google provides answers for every possible scenario, and it is therefore not terribly helpful. When it came to advice on clearing out possessions, the one consensus I could find was, “Do what feels right to you.”

The first thing of Patrick’s I dealt with was his cell phone, an iPhone, which I felt attached to as an extension of him. It contained his voice, his thoughts in voice memos and notes, photos of things and people that he treasured, records of his activities, medications, doctors’ appointments, and memories of CR and our life as a family. I contemplated keeping his number active, but couldn’t justify the ongoing expense. So, I once again turned to Google: “How do I extract and save all of the data from an iPhone?” This time I found a concrete answer. Patrick’s phone data now lives in various files on our computer’s hard drive, and his iPhone went back to Apple via their recycling program.

His closet, however, remains as he left it – the blue and pink flannel hanging where he last hung it. Our basement is full of the gear we used together: backpacks, skis, bikes, books, Frisbees. It’s just stuff, but it is his stuff, infused with his smell and our memories. I know that I will eventually take the time to go through everything and decide what to keep, sell, or give away. But, not quite yet.

I’m keeping the shirt.