the first dress and the last dress

first dress

This probably wasn't the first dress I ever wore — I was more than a year old here, at my brother's christening — but it's the first dress I remember, in that weird kind of remembering that is nine-tenths composed of other people telling you what you should remember.

My grandmother made that dress, and I couldn't tell you if she knitted it or crocheted it. (My money's on crochet, though.) It has green velvet ribbons, which you can't see in the picture, and it's upstairs right now, in a box. I have a niece coming in August; maybe a year and a bit from now she'll wear it.

Dad

This is the last dress I made. Once Dad told me he liked a red bandanna skirt I had made, so I felt as if he would have approved of the black bandanna fabric. I was glad I had the fabric already; I hated the thought of going out and buying fabric for this last dress. Nothing would have been right; how could it have been? Besides, it was the just right weight for Florida in March, and when I lost it during "Be Not Afraid," the drops just beaded up and rolled off.

I used this pattern, for the first time. I went slow, much slower than usual for a first-time-through. I'd measure something and forget the number before I even put the ruler down. I had to move the little speed slider on my sewing machine from "jackrabbit" back down to "turtle." I kept sticking myself with pins.

I even tore the fabric of the bodice, ripping out stitches at the waist seam, but for once I didn't swear and throw it onto the "fix someday" pile; I just dug out some fusible interfacing and reinforced the tear. A little zig-zag stitching and a bit of cheating up when I redid that seam, and no one could have possibly spotted it, not even Dad, who could see a smudge or a nick or a speck of dirt from a hundred yards out.

As always, I made some changes to the pattern. I changed the front and back gathers on the bodice for darts, so as not to have to wear a belt (a blousy bodice looks awful without a belt, and my Good Black Belt is AWOL, as usual). I added deep pockets to the front seams — deeper than usual, as I wanted to be able to carry a full pack of tissues, maybe even two. I didn't want to have to carry a shoulder bag and then have it keep bumping into people when I hugged them. Dad had five sisters; I'm one of fifteen cousins; and friends were coming from all over: there was going to be a lot of hugging.

I know I'll wear this again — Dad was most emphatically NOT in favor of things that you could only use once — but I hope it's a long time before I need to wear it again. I might still want to have two packs of tissues in my pockets for a while, though. Just in case.

I'm going to miss you, Dad.

Dad

Thomas Albert McKean, 1944-2008.

0 thoughts on “the first dress and the last dress

  1. So sorry Erin…..what a lovely gesture you’ve made writing about your Father, and sharing something so close to your heart. You have my deepest sympathies….I lost my Father just last night am still reeling. I’ll remember this when I start to pick out what to wear, and hope I can do him proud too. So sorry Erin. Angela

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  2. Oh, Erin, I’m so sorry. This is beautiful, the dress and the writing. I’ll be humming “Be Not Afraid” and thinking of you and your dad today.

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  3. I was sorry to read of your loss, Erin. Your Dad looks like a fun guy! And you look just like your Mum. What a lovely bunch of people.

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  4. Elizabeth Zimmermann (the knitting designer/author) has a great quote: “knit on, with confidence and hope, through all crises.” I applied that to myself when I lost my baby daughter, and I think it goes for any hobby, sewing, knitting, whatever, and just about any crisis. I’m so sorry for your loss – sew on, Erin, sew on.

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  5. Oh, Erin, I am so sorry for your loss. He was so young! I lost my father in August, but he was 80 and so it was very different than losing someone who’s only 64. You are in my thoughts. –Negative Nancy

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  6. Erin, I too, am so sorry for your loss. All my best wishes to you and your family. I really admire your commitment in making such a lovely dress to wear on such a sad occasion. It is a tribute to you and all you stand for and wonderful to know that your father would have appreciated it. Love and hugs, AJ

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  7. I’m sorry to hear about your dad. What a wonderful way to memorialize it in your blog. You’ve really gotten to the heart of how much emotion & meaning often goes into clothing, particularly the clothing we make ourselves. It’s a beautiful dress & a fitting tribute.

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  8. Erin – I’m really sorry that you lost your father. As I’m writing this, I have tears in my eyes your writing was so beautiful and touching.

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  9. I’m so sorry, Erin. Thanks for sharing your dad with us. Obviously your anonymous fans can’t carry the load, but now we can miss him with you, just a little.

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  10. Thank you for sharing, your lovely tribute and your pictures. Your Dad has a wonderful twinkle in his eye in both photos. God Bless.

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  11. Erin, so sorry for your loss. Interesting how clothes mark significant days throughout our lives. And being able to make those clothes is a wonderful gift. It gives you some slow time to contemplate the the person, the event, or loss and process it in a way that is somehow healing.Thanks for the beautiful memory.

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  12. Thank you for sharing your Dad with us. I lost my Dad almost 7 years ago and it feels like yesterday. Be well.

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  13. Dear Erin, please accept my sympathies for your loss. My best wishes to you and your family. The post was a lovely tribut to your father.

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  14. Such a touching post. It made me cry. I’m glad you had such a loving and special father. Thanks for sharing his memory with us.

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  15. I am so, so sorry for your loss. What a beautiful tribute to your father–a special dress he would have loved. I wish you peace in your grieving.

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  16. Oh Erin – I’m so sorry. Just here to add my condolences to the ever-growing list….Take all the time you need, and know we are all thinking of you. Much love, Leah xx

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  17. i really like the way you did this post: you wrote a tribute to your dad while still referring to dresses! my deepest sympathies to you and your family.

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  18. I am So Sorry for your family’s loss. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family at this time. My Dad died this past summer; I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to wear my vintage dress again.

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  19. Dear Erin,A moving tribute, and thank you for sharing it. You only lose a father once– it is a huge loss. Our thoughts are with you. Deborah and Paul

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  20. Erin, thank you so much for sharing this beautiful piece in the midst of such grief. There’s powerful love in this dress, in your words, in these photos, and they’ve got me in tears, too. I’m so very sorry.

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  21. Erin, I am truly sorry for your loss. Your writing is so evocative, I could feel a whole wonderful lifetime in those paragraphs. What a great Dad. Sending hugs from North Carolina… Dawn

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  22. You are deserving of great comfort; and I hope it comes, slow as it will. Thanks for keeping the life of that dress not-so-secret. It is radiant and beautiful; and hugged by 15 cousins? Well now; it is one lucky dogged dress. Best occasion wear that I’ve ever seen. Kathy

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  23. I’m so sorry. The dress is beautiful and so is your writing as always. Que la paz y un abrazo tibio te encuentren en casa.

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  24. I’m so sorry for your loss. I welled up reading this. We’re never the same after we lose our dads, are we? He sounded special. I’m so sorry.

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  25. Wow — Erin, you have a gift for giving even when you are the one who should be given to. I’m so sad to hear about your father. My condolences to you and your family.

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  26. Erin — I’m so sorry to hear about your dad. My father died in 2002, and I had the hardest time finding a dress to wear. Your post was lovely, and loving. Take comfort in your memories of your father, and hang in there. You’ll always miss him, but it does get a bit easier.

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  27. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be. I hope that dress got a lot of hugging. My condolences to you and your family.

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  28. Erin ~Your writing brought tears to my eyes. It is a wonderful dress and I am sure you will remember your Dad everytime you wear it, and hopefully the memory will go from a tear to a smile . . . someday when the healing is over. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.

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  29. Erin,I’m so sorry for your loss. I sewed a memorial garment when my Dad died a couple of years ago. It still comforts me. He will live on in your happy memories.Kate

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  30. Sorry doesn’t hold it all. I just lost my dad in November, and though condolences don’t change anything, they let you know that people care. We care, Erin, and we wish we could make it better, easier somehow.

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  31. Erin, I’m so sorry you lost your father. It’s obvious that you cherished each other and I’m sure he will be watching over you still.

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  32. ErinI too am so sorry that you lost your father. May the warm memories of him and the rest of your loving family keep you going.Leah Z

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  33. in an ironic twist of fate, i was writing a paper on how humans have lost the meaning of death when I took a break to catch up on your blog. I’m not so sure I want to turn the paper in any more. I’m so sorry…You and your family will be in my thoughts. ❤

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  34. Erin, you are a bright spot in my day. I’m here every day, looking forward to the next entry. Today, I wish that we actually knew each other, so that I could give you a hug and offer my support. Know that you are a cherished person, and I, among many others, will be thinking of and praying for you and your family.

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  35. My hearth-felt condolences to you and your family. I had to stop reading all the beautiful comments because I was afraid that the flow of silent tears would change into an ugly cry. We have never met, but your blog, your writing, the presentations I have had delight to see over the web, has enriched my life. Thank you.It might not seem so now, but there will come a time again when your father will be there with you in each and every moment. When the pain subsides enough to let you breathe deeply, you and he will keep each other company again. Tread gently. All the best to you.

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