10/08/09: In 1982, the movie Sophie's Choice was released. It is one of the best films of all time, and one comes away from it with a broken heart and many questions about life in this world. There were few moments of levity, but Clint and I found one when Sophie asked Nathan if he were going to wear his cocksucker suit. Being of Hungarian heritage her English was often imprecise. We chuckled, could not help ourselves, and from that moment on we called Clint's seersucker suit his cocksucker suit. Shirts are also included.
Yesterday, I pushed myself to get some work done cleaning out his closet, and there it was: his cocksucker suit. He wore it to dinner at Galatoire's celebrating his 50th class reunion of his graduation from Tulane medical. That was May 15, and that was the last time I saw him in it. It still has his name tag and his 50 year pin in place. I buried my face in it and cried and keened and felt my heart seize with misery. I danced around the room with it and wept all over the place. Tears fell down my cheeks and dripped off my chin and I wiped them on his suit sleeve. We twirled around until I was too exhausted to cry any more. Thinking of it now brings tears to my eyes. He was so damned handsome in that suit. Always the Southern Gentleman, somehow that suit made him even more so. Even in that fucking wheelchair, he cut a fine figure, as we say in the South. I found his brown leather garment bag on the top shelf - the one with his monogram on it - and lovingly and carefully put his cocksucker suit in it and hung it in the back of the closet. The very idea of anyone else wearing it makes me nauseated.
I organized trousers, sport coats and shoes to give away, even a tux, but I lined up his Uggs an his Birkenstocks on his shoe racks. They are staying here with me. There were sweats, almost new, and they went into the Goodwill baskets. I haven't gotten to the ties and belts, and I may not be able to do it today. I promised Kristy I would wait for her to help with Poppy's shirts. I've taken to wearing his buttondowns as night gowns. I still sleep with his red sweater. It's my blanky.