Everyone needs a dark suit

I don’t have a dark suit. At least I didn’t until a couple of days ago. My great uncle passed away this week, and it got me thinking about it. I’m not going to the funeral. My sister is going while I look after mom. But there was an alternative plan where I would go instead.

One problem is that I don’t have a dark suit. I don’t really have any suits, but I thought I could buy one and have it tailored in time for the funeral. But then, we switched plans, and it wasn’t necessary.

However, I am taking care of my mother, as I’ve detailed in some previous blog posts. She is still strong and could be with us for quite some time, however, things are progressing. That’s that expression they use, they being professional caregivers–progressing, not deteriorating, not winding down, not coming apart, certainly not dieing. No, the disease is progressing, another one of those perverse Orwellian twists of words that seem to cloud around dementia.

Sooner or later, I’m going to need that dark suit. I figured that I’d rather have one in the closet than have to scramble to get one when the time came. So, I headed to the local Men’s Warehouse.

When I walked in the door, the ratio of salespeople to customers was roughly three to one. A couple of them descended on me.

“Hello, what can we help you find?”

“I need a dark suit.”

“Alright, Tony can help you with that.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“A funeral.”

“Oh, I’m sorry for your loss. When is the funeral?”

“It’s not for some time.”

They look very puzzled at this point. For fucks sake, I’m not going to have to explain this, am I? You really aren’t going to make me explain that I’m buying a suit for a funeral that is months or even years away.

“Look don’t worry about it.”

“Well, if you need it for a specific date, we can help you with…”

“It’s for a funeral, but your regular time frame will be fine.”

It was an odd transaction, but I managed to get the suit and get out of there without having to explain much more. And I’m glad that when the time comes and I’m scrambling to get done all the things that will need to be done, I won’t have to go to Men’s Warehouse and talk to a salesperson about how my mother has died and I need a suit.

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