I saved your clothes because you were our firstborn. I thought for sure as I quietly folded them and stored them in a bin I’d proudly unfold them one day to use again. I saved the clothes even if I didn’t have a little girl. I was willing to quietly put them away, folded with love and care and hope.

Yes, I was willing to take up storage space to hold onto these clothes because there was hope stored in my heart. So I quietly folded your clothing and closed the bin with tears in my eye and hope in my heart.

I never really knew how much your clothes would mean to me one day.

Today, I quietly unfold each piece of clothing, each piece filled with a memory. Each season, I pull down the bins, and I sit quietly unfolding the clothing for your little sister to wear. My heart that was once filled with hope was blessed—with new life, your little sister.

RELATED: The Smell of Dreft and Hope

I never really knew how much your clothes would mean to me one day.

I never knew God would call you home, and all I would have left are your clothes.

I quietly unfold each piece of clothing with a longing to hold you and see you again. I watch your sister wearing your clothing, and it reminds me of you. I share sweet memories of you with your younger sister. It makes her feel proud. It connects her to you since you are no longer here. When we look at old pictures, she recognizes the outfits you once wore. That she now wears. It bridges her world to yours.

RELATED: She Was Never Mine

But each season, my storage bins become fewer. I realize soon I will run out of clothing, and I will run out of memories . . . because we ran out of time.

I never really knew how much your clothes would mean to me one day.

Today, I realized just how very much your clothes meant.