Many years ago, I discovered that a friend of mine never irons her clothes. She doesn’t even own an iron. I thought this was rather strange. Surely clothes need ironing? At the time, I ironed nearly everything. (I didn’t iron underwear!)
And then one day, I stopped ironing my clothes. Maybe I got lazy. Or perhaps I was busy. Whatever the reason, I embraced the wrinkles instead of smoothing them away. And you know what? It was okay. No one said, “Sue, you look a mess!” I don’t think anyone noticed I’d abandoned my iron.
Perhaps there are things far more important than unrumpled clothes? Or could ironing be a big deal after all?
When my son Thomas died, ironing was important, but I didn’t realise it at the time. While I was deep in grief, my mother-in-law was always ironing. It annoyed me. I just wanted her to stop and notice me. Say something. Do something that would really help me. I once wrote a story about this.
Ironing Away the Pain.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
“No, I am not!” My words whip her in the face, and it crumples as she takes two steps back from the ironing board. I don’t care. I push past her and out of the back door.
I fling myself face down upon the grass beneath a tree. I take a sobbing breath that hurts my ribs, and the pain rises up from deep within me. It gushes out, wave after wave, never-ending.
And then I become aware of someone standing over me. She is holding out a cup of tea. Tea? I ignore it. I climb to my feet and push past the woman. Moments later my bedroom door slams. I’ve shut her out.
“All your mother ever says is, ‘Are you okay?’ I complain to my husband. “She asks that question a hundred times a day. I’m so sick of it. What does she expect me to say? Of course, I’m not okay! I don’t think I‘ll be okay ever again.”
Andy enfolds me in his arms. “She’s only trying to help. She’s worried about you. She doesn’t know what else to say.”
What is there to say when a daughter-in-law loses a baby?
Late at night, when I lie exhausted in bed, I can hear her talking with Andy.
“She doesn’t like me,” I say the next morning. “She doesn’t talk to me.”
But she watches me. She watches me as she irons the clothes.
“All she does is iron the clothes,” I complain. “She even irons the underwear and the sheets.”
The pain thuds in my chest. Mom irons the clothes. Thomas remains dead.
And then the day arrives when Mom is to return to her own home. We sit around the table for one last coffee and I say, “Thank you for coming.”
And she replies,” I wouldn’t have missed being with you for anything.”
Then the words that have been stuck deep inside us for weeks start moving. They rise to our lips and we talk. We really talk. We talk for the first time ever.
“I’m so proud of you,” she says. “You’re the daughter I never had.”
She’s gone. Andy drove her to the airport. The house feels empty. I look around, and I notice the piles of ironed clothes. Ironed with care. Ironed with concern. Ironed with love. Ironed because it was all she could do.
Sometimes grief makes us blind. Sometimes we are wrong.
That was the last time I ever saw my mother-in-law. We never again sat at the same table sipping coffee and chatting. But we spoke many times on the phone.
“Hello,” she’d say. “Are you okay?” I’d smile and answer, “Yes Mom, I’m okay. I really am.”
And I was.
Yes, I’d misjudged my mother-in-law. I failed to see what she was doing. She ironed because she loved me, because she cared, because it was all she could do for me.
I said, “Grief made me blind. Sometimes we’re wrong.”
When we’re unschooling, we’re often told we’re wrong. Our ideas are challenged. We’re criticised. We’re labelled irresponsible. But we do what we do because we love, because we care, because we believe it’s the right thing to do. If only we could communicate that to others. What if we could really talk about the things that matter with those people who matter the most to us? See things with each others’ eyes? Understand one another?
What if everyone could move beyond the opposing opinions, and accept and support?
And just love. That’s what’s important, isn’t it?
Something Extra
If you’d like to read more of my Thomas Stories, you can find them on my blog, Wholy Souly.
Photos
Sophie took all these photos of me recently while we were picnicking in a park in town. I was wearing a dress that wasn’t ironed!
So, I’m wondering if you also wear clothes that haven’t been ironed. Or maybe ironed clothes bring you joy? And what’s really important to you? I’d love to hear from you if you have time to stop by and say hello!
I don’t iron my clothes either. If I need to look less wrinkled, I throw them in a dryer with a wet article of clothing and a dryer sheet for a few minutes. Sending hugs and tears.
Felicia,
I am so sorry to hear that you lost your daughter Sabrina. It sounds like she was an exceptionally brave person who touched many lives. No doubt there is a huge hole in your life and your heart. Thank you so much for your hugs and tears. It was very kind of you to think of me when you are grieving and in need of comfort yourself. Sending love and hugs xxx
Thank you also for the unwrinkling tip. I shall try it out!
Sue,
Thank you for reading my story. Yes, she was an amazing person and I miss her with every breath I take. I imagine I always will. I was trying to follow you because I like the way you write but I don’t see a follow button.
God bless you and your family.
Felicia,
I’d love to have you as a follower of my blog. Thank you! There’s an email signup form at the foot of all my blog posts. I don’t have a follow button like yours because I haven’t worked out to put one on my blog! I hope you don’t have any problems becoming a follower. I look forward to keeping up with your blog too.
God bless!
Thank you for writing this. Your honesty and humility with these hard things is excellent and always brings me to tears. And, no, I don’t believe in ironing 😉
Holly,
Thank you for reading my story. It’s good to share the difficult times as well as the good, isn’t it? Perhaps it makes us feel less alone when we’re struggling and finding life hard to deal with.
Another non-ironer!
Thank you for writing this, Sue! My mother-in-law is with us for an extended visit right now and I really needed to read this. Have a great week.
Lauren,
I had a lot of difficulty getting on with my mother-in-law because I assumed she didn’t like me. It turned out she was very proud of me. Isn’t it sad how we can misunderstand each other? If only we could have spoken honestly a lot sooner!
I hope you enjoy your mother-in-law’s visit!
What a touching story! Your writing is such a gift. I’m always impressed with how brave you are to write about the things that truly matter but that are sometimes easier left unsaid. I only iron on the rare occasion that we need a boy’s or men’s dress shirt looking smooth for a wedding or something important like that. I’m glad I’m in good company not ironing everything….
Emily,
Thank you! Yes, it can be hard to write about some things, but everyone is always kind when I’m honest. Writing about the things that truly matter builds connections between us. We might think we’re the only person experiencing something, but usually, we’re not!
I iron wedding clothes too!
Sue,
This is such a real and touching post. It’s so hard to make sense of anything in the midst of grief. I’m glad you had the opportunity to hear those words from your mother-in-law.
I don’t do much ironing. I try to ship for things that don’t require too much ironing so unless we’re going somewhere fairly formal, the iron doesn’t come out much!
Erin,
Oh yes, I’m so grateful I had that conversation with my mother-in-law. It really was our last chance to talk properly because, as I said, I never saw her face to face again.
Clothes that don’t need ironing are wonderful, aren’t they?!
Thanks for sharing hard stories. This story makes me appreciate and understand my mother in law’s efforts more and encourages me to be kinder and try harder to make a better relationship. She is a lovely lady. I am very defensive. I really appreciated reading this, I needed to.
Ange,
Oh yes, some stories are hard to write and share, but maybe these stories are the important ones. They connect us together so that we can encourage each other. I’m glad you can relate to my words. Thank you so much for your kind feedback!
And I iron as little as possible. One day I thought I really should iron my kids’ school clothes for the sake of charity for their dignity but perhaps I should get them to choose to do it for themselves if they wish and not worry if they don’t choose to. There. See how much I have learned from you in such a short time. That would be an unschooling type of decision to make. I’m very chuffed about this 🙂 God bless you.
Ange,
Oh yes, if ironed clothes are important to your kids, they’ll get out the iron! My girls iron their aprons for work. Sometimes I’ll iron the aprons for them as a surprise which makes them smile. Your comment made me smile too. May God bless you!