An Ode to Pants, Recently Departed

Searching for solace on the untimely demise of a good pair of pants, and seeking refuge in the famous laments of literature.

“What’s done cannot be undone.”
― William Shakespeare , Macbeth

I come to mourn these here pants.

Thoreau wrote “On the death of a friend, we should consider that the fates through confidence have devolved on us the task of a double living, that we have henceforth to fulfill the promise of our friend’s life also, in our own, to the world.” Thus, here I be considering.

They were good pants. They were minding their own business yesterday, doing what they had always done in covering my lower half while remaining functional and comfortable, when a tragic MRI imaging truck accident ripped the life from them. The tech who had accidentally opened the door as I ascended the stairs, causing the corner of the swinging portal to tear an opening into the thigh of these pants, was dutifully horrified and apologetic. While it was mass produced material of ethically questionable labor from Bangladesh that physically tore, it was actually my heart that unraveled; frayed, ripped, and laid open and exposed like my far-too-white thigh now was. Professional til the end, they stayed and struggled on till I got home and took them off, the tear becoming worse until the seams on either side finally put a stop to it…