Re_Paire
4 min readFeb 28, 2022

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Pressing concerns.

Ian in the first encounter shirt.

The ironing man Ken in Annandale is officially the last left to know that Ian has died and yes I admit I only told him the week before last, and it was painful to finally tell Ken that after all these years that he has been writing Ian and Vicky on my laundry or ironing that Ian is no longer needing his shirts ironed. Now you’d think that it would be easy to tell the ironing man, but trust me it wasn’t. I love getting that collection of hangers and that little pink sticky label that say Vicky/Ian. It was just a little bit of warmth and comfort that somehow in laundry land Ian had survived and had moved to a more casual way of dressing that no longer required the collared, crisp shirt. It was a small corner of fantasy that I had allowed myself. So I told Ken and I asked him if he would please continue to write both our names on that label, because it was just a comfort to see our names together still; But telling Ken cut just a very small but last thread and even now as I write this I can feel the emotion and tears at the severance of this. I’ve really got no idea why it’s so painful and why someone else believing that Ian is alive and well matters so much, but it does.

I looked Ian up on google before I wrote this and unless he’s had a facelift and a change of career it was clear to me that he has also died the digital death. For a while it was really great to google him and see his professional self, still relevant. Now his name brings up his obituary, death notice and a musician called Ian Cutler.

As the peripheral memories of Ian silently and quietly disappear, slowly covered by the layers of everyday digital and daily silt that bury him, I hold his relevance to me dearly through memory and metaphor.

A little while ago I did a repair on a shirt, (of course a striped French one!) and it’s a very special one. It’s the shirt I met Ian in and I still wear it. As I mended I remembered the night we met and those early days in Manchester and Huddersfield and it I gave me that little bit of joy, warmth and comfort as I mended. Material objects are so precious after people die, because they are material evidence of a life and unlike digital presence they have a physical presence of touch and smell. When I feel like I need a hug or a little bit of Ian-ness I put on one of his jumpers and imagine his arms around me. My children do it too. Hetty lost his jacket that she wears in winter on the bus last year and through her tears and distress she said it was “dad’s way of looking after me”. It was gut wrenching to hear that, but I knew exactly what she meant. Sometimes that’s all we’ve got and that thinking can help carry us through some really tough moments. So in our house we have a chest of drawers of things that belonged to Ian and sometimes we just need a peek and sometimes we take it out and remember that touching and holding those things is precious, because it’s as close as we can get to him and his physical presence. I have a few things from my Dad too and I do the same, they have his shape and memory attached to them.

As time passes and the garments inevitably weary and my connections with Ian and my Dad sometimes feel thin and worn, I mend or adapt their clothes and find that as I adapt and mend it reinforces my memories and makes a bridge that connects my past and present life. It is the visible mending and repair metaphor that helps keeps them relevant and reinforces my strength and love; because creativity and imagination is where adaption flourishes.

P.S.

Ian is not totally without digital presence. There is a consultants called Cutler Merz and they named their company after him. Sometimes I go to that website and take a sneaky peek and feel just a big bit proud of him and lot grateful that this very important part of him is living on. Inheritance of wisdom isn’t just for family.

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Re_Paire

A widowed woman, looking for answers in herself.