Room

We are selling my childhood home. Nothing about this is easy, not purging 30+ years of stuff, not cleaning every nook and cranny, not praying that you can get enough for your Mom. It’s a long goodbye, filled with lots of things to do.

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These green chairs I am taking with me. But today, they sit oddly in my old bedroom. Oddly because they always stood firmly in our living room, not in my small space. But as I looked at this picture I took today, I realized it is special. My dad spent nearly every day after his diagnosis while at home in one of these chairs. It was here that he was able to think, chat, sometimes write, and share with friends. It is here, as a child, I remember him reading the newspaper, or as in my teenage years, listening to my fears, worries, hopes and desires.

So even though it is strange to see these chairs in my old room, the oddity is sweet. It’s a reminder of my dad and I, the bond that can’t be broken by disease or death. While I would give anything to just sit in those chairs with him again, I have this clear vision given by this picture to bring to my mind when I miss Dad and want to talk with him. I can be in the comfort of my childhood bedroom, with new paint and little furniture, and our chatting chairs.

My room, my space, now filled with new visuals for me. And that is a gift.

 

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One response

  1. I had a fond memory of Dad in this chair. Jumbo was trying to hide behind his back because he was in trouble with me!
    Great post, sis!

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