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the first dress and the last dress

ErinLeave a comment

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”

  3. What a brave girl, wearing her heart on her sleeve like that. I’m sure that all of us who’ve experienced a significant loss wish that we could, even just briefly, switch places and help shoulder your burden, Erin. Don’t forget the famous beatitude: ‘Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted’. Lot of truth in that.Will have my Liberty hanky tucked up my sleeve today as a mark of respect, and in case of grief leakages.Keep on keeping on, Erin, and heartfelt thanks for all your exemplariness.

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  4. Erin,I’m very sorry for your loss. It sounds like your father loved you very much. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers.

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  7. Erin, I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sure your father would have loved this dress of yours. I wish you all the strength in the world.

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  9. Erin, I am so sorry to hear of your loss. I am crying along with you. I hope that he did not suffer and am sure that he is looking out for you still. Take care of yourself at this difficult time.

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  12. Please accept my most heartfelt “I’m sorry for your loss.” I know when my “Daddy” died it was as though my first and best supporter was ripped from my life. Daddy’s and daughter’s… a match made in heaven and that’s where you will see him again. Sympathetically yours, Janie Prayers and thoughts of kindness to you and your family.

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  15. What great photos of your Dad, he looks like a lovely man.I’m so sorry for your loss. Best wishes.

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  18. I was so sorry to see this. What a great tribute it was to make a dress in your dad’s honor. He surely knew how amazing you are!/mindi

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  19. How lovely and fitting to sew a funeral dress for your dad – I honestly had never thought of that before. I’m glad that he appreciated your talent. It’s a wonderful dress – wear it proudly for him.

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  20. Oh Erin,I had to stop reading the first time, as I am with my 85 year old father this week helping him to recover from major surgery. There’s never enough time with those we love, and I’m so lucky to still have him.My heart goes out to you, and thank you so much for sharing your father with us.

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  22. Oh, Erin! My deepest sympathies are with you and yours as you go thru this valley.May he rest in peace, in the loving arms of Our Father..Rachel

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  25. Erin, I’m so sorry. I lost my Dad a few years ago, too. One of my earliest toddlerhood memeories involves my favorite dress (which I still have) and my Dad discussing it with me. It was during that conversation that something elemental about the nature of language and spoken communication CLICKED in my toddler brain and I could understand it all as I never could before. It was an epiphany moment. Thanks, Dad.CMC

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  26. You don’t know me but I read your blog every morning. Yesterday I was talking to someone about this very post and I described you, without even thinking, as my friend Erin.

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  29. What a wonderful memorial. Your dad sounds pretty darn cool. Celebrate who he was and how he inspired you to be YOU!

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  30. I’m so very sorry to read about your father. My own father passed away just a month ago and I feel your pain.Your dress is a moving tribute to your dad and your love for him shines through every word.Hugs and love,Chantelle

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  31. I’m so sorry for your loss. When my mother died, the most helpful thing that someone said to me was from Torch Song Triology…missing your loved one never goes away, it becomes part of you, and that’s good, because its like having them there in a way.

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  33. Hello Erin! I kept the kleenex from my fathers funeral, because it seemed wrong to throw away the tears I cried for him.To sew and complete something for him as such a loving tribute is a result of the good influence he had on you. You look so much like your mom, but now I know where that twinkle came from…. Time will make it better.Diane

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  34. Erin, I know you’ve already got a million people sending sympathies, but in case it’s comforting to you to know how loved you are, I’m joining in.I’m so sorry for your loss; you and your family are in my thoughts.

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  36. This was a beautiful tribute to your dad. I can tell he was a great guy from your writings, and from his kind smile. My heart goes out to you.

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  37. Simply Beautiful. I’m new to your blog and I’m so glad I found it.Please feel welcomed to visit mineJillian

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  39. Erin,I was so glad to see you were back when I checked today but never imagined the reason you were away. It seems it’s all been said so I’ll just add to it my heartfelt sorrow for your pain. I know you’re not much of a God-fan but I am so, if it’s OK with you, I’ll keep you and your family in my prayers. May you be warmed by your memories and surrounded by ones who love you and can hold your pain with you when it’s too much for you to bear alone.In friendship,Nicole from Gurnee

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  42. Thank you, Erin, for such a beautiful piece of writing, for saying so much by never saying it outright.Ave atque vale, Thomas Albert McKean.

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  44. Erin, I am so sorry for your loss. Love, hugs, and prayers for you adn your entire family. I knwo it will be a hard road, but you will be together again in the future.Your Loving Dad sounds a lot like mine (and only one year older), and I cant’ even begin to imagine what life will be like without him (nor do I want to).Please know we are with you, and so is he.Kathy B. from Kitchener

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  47. Dear Erin,I was so happy to see your post after having so many days off, feeling all sorry for myself that this bit of entertainment I savor each morning had been missing from my routine. I settled in, merrily reading along. The melancholy of your writing washed over me long before I knew what you were telling us. Then the tears came. For you, someone I’ll probably never meet but whom I appreciate so much; for your father, so young, and the struggle that I imagine he may have endured; tears of gratitude for the health of my own parents; tears of concern for my eldest daughter who left for Ecuador yesterday. I hesitated to add my voice to the many who hope to bring you comfort, but then I realized that we have a community here. The virtual nature of this community does not make our connection to each other any less real. Thank you, Erin, for all of the ways you make the internet a truly human place to congregate.By the way, I love your baby picture. You realize that you haven’t changed a bit, don’t you?Best wishes,Libby

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  49. What a lovely tribute to your father. Treasure your memories and know that he was very proud of you. Your father would have loved such a sweet dress. Sending hugs and sympathies your way.

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  50. I understand your loss and sadness. And even years to come would not cure and fill the empty space he left…I know. I lost my father 14 years ago and still sruggling with the loss. Cherish your wonderful memory of him, Erin.Elana

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