The coat; his coat. I found it when I was in the spare bedroom, hanging in the closet. I remember I eyed it so curiously and walked out of the room until Christmas day when I need him. I took the coat from the closet and put it on, crying into it my heavy sobs and blatant fears. I remember I put on the coat and just cried for a good hour. Like he was here, like he was with me, holding me.

Since then, the coat has had a place in my room. Sometimes it's on the floor... sometimes it's on the bed... but mostly I'm wearing it. I can still see him wearing it while he shoveled the drive way. As he would come home from work. The brown, knitted piece of work smelt just like him. I wear it whenever I need him. Whenever I'm feeling low. Whenever I'm sick...

Because... because it feels like him. Like if I put this coat on, he's still here. I can still feel him and it's like he's hugging me because of the familiar fabric. It was just the other night I was severely ill and I could smell his scent on the coat which had long left the fabric. This coat gives me courage, knowledge... it gives me hope.

And it gives me him. Because I can't have him anymore.