She knew it was high time that most of his personal stuff in the attic was cleared out.
At least three of the boxes contained all her late son’s old clothes. They had been there ever since the accident. As she looked through the items, transferring them into an old suitcase ready for taking to the charity shop, she felt the vivid memories of each item jolt her emotions. She knew this would happen, it being the reason she had left it so long. So many of her friends had encouraged her to do it in order to let it all go; to enable her to move on with her life. Her husband agreed, saying that it would help her find closure. She knew they were right, and despite the sadness that went with the task, she knew this was the thing to do.
It was about a month later, when coming out of the warmth of the local shopping centre into the biting chill of the morning that it had happened. She was making her way back to the car when she saw the lad across the road. He was sitting, propped up against a shop front begging for change. He was obviously homeless, but it was his age that made her stop and stare. After a few moments of hesitation, she crossed the street, opening her purse and taking out change.
It was with very mixed emotions when she saw one of her son’s old gloves held out to receive the coins.
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