I'm not sure why I'm sharing this, perhaps because it hurts so badly and I've learned that sharing pain sometimes does diminish its powerful hold.

When we were cleaning out my brother's apartment in April, we struggled over what to do with a very old dresser. It was in very bad shape, and everyone decided to throw it into the dumpster. But when it actually came time to heave it, I couldn't. So dear hubby took it apart, and over the past few months has been fixing it. It's not perfect, still lots of scars here and there, but hubby did manage to find the beauty that I knew was lying underneath all of the dirt and damage. We finally moved it into our spare bedroom yesterday.

At some point yesterday afternoon, I came up the stairs to put some laundry away in the linen closet. As I rounded the small landing at the top of the stairs, I saw the dresser, and in a totally unexpected moment, the entire life of that dresser flashed before my eyes...how it had sat in my oldest brother's bedroom when he was born over 55 years ago, holding his diapers and baby clothes, how it had moved from house to house with us, moving out of the family home and into Mom's new apartment after Dad died, then moving into Gary's apartment when Mom died, and finally moving into our house after Gary died...and it will eventually move into my oldest brother's daughter's house when she marries and settles in with her own firstborn.

I was overcome with just how short and fragile life really is, how so much of what that dresser saw and lived for is now gone - most of my family is gone and what's left is scarred and damaged almost beyond repair. The pain of all of those losses was/still is too excruciating for words.

So now I'm trying to focus on the beauty and joy that I just know lives underneath all of those scars and this agony-of-absence...I guess the indomitable hope is that with the right touch and lots of TLC, the beauty will eventually shine through...

As your beauty shines through in every moment of your life. Thanks for sharing this beautiful story.

What a beautiful story! Beauty does shine through.

It's amazing the emotions these "old things" in our lives can bring up, isn't it?

Darlene

My son calls this a "moment memorium"
Its painful bitter sweet.I had it one beautiful summer evening driving my son back from a happy event.The coastline here is very beautiful and the loght that night magnified this.I wanted to weep and did. It was as if all our precious days had come home to roost.I have had similar laying in bed in hospital..when healing starts.And at a study group where poetry shared allows dimension to be held in a moment.
Eagle..you are special and in sharing your moment I too recall those times.Thank you.
Mountain ash

Eagle,

What a beautiful story...and what beautiful memories...they celebrate that our loved ones never totally leave us...they're always right there in our hearts!

Eagle Heart ,
You always touch a place in my heart . I remember when the relatives took all my mother's things in the house her china and silverware and furiture and I so wanted mom's secretary disk she had promised me . and I did not get it .Well they told her I did not want anything .

Then I went and looked at some of her wine glasses that I had that mom had given me earlier before she started with Alz . I remember how we drink wine in them and some happy holidays we had with them and her favorite candy dish that I got and remember those evil greedy people did not get it all. I had some of mom and dads memories that they could not take from me . So, now I don't feel so bad inside I might not have her desk and one of the relatives have taken i from me for themselves , but they did not get it all. They could never take my mother from me. That wonderful candy dish that I have an all that candy corn that was in that wonderful cut glass and wonderful holiday candy that set in that dish at Christmas time.

Thank you for easing the lost of those things that I did not neet anymore. Those material things I loss were not so inportant anymore .

Blessing,
Renee

Oh, Eagle you did it again, got me sniffling and teary. Beautiful story!

What a touching and beautiful recollection. Eagle, write or print out this story and put a copy of it inside the dresser! That way its legacy will be witnessed for others as well.

Thanks all for your lovely words and thoughts. This really did hit me hard, and it has been comforting to read your responses.

Meredith, you inspired me to print out this post. I'm going to put it in an envelope that I'll label "Dresser Stories" and store the envelope in the top drawer of the dresser...and whenever I get more memories of that or other pieces of family furniture (there are a few that my Dad built), I'll stick those stories into that envelope too.

What a good idea...well done Merideth.
Hope you have settled Eagle Heart.Be good to yourself.
Mountain ash

Eagle,

Treasures, like your dresser, take up so much room in this house. But much of what's in here - as far as furniture, wall hangings, china, figurines, books, grandma Lewis's organ, framed documents from the Mexican/American Border dispute, etc. -- how could I possibly give them away to anyone other than someone in this family?

These are treasures and they belong to many other people, not just us.

Sometimes I feel like I'm in a museum. Another generation of cousins is now marrying and I'm hoping these members of our family will show some interest in keeping these family heirlooms. (I may have butchered that word.)

Although I married into this family, while I've been caring for these treasures, I am aware of their value as reminders of those who lived generations before.

I do understand how you feel about that dresser. Absolutely understand.

Also, you are still in the early stages of grief and, so I've heard and lived through, myself, objects or dates will sometimes catch you off guard and tears may fall for a day or so.

I think your idea of making note of who used this dresser - and when - is a wonderful way to honor those who have passed over.

I'm not writing this as nicely as I would like, but I have to go someplace and wanted to respond, at least.

Be gentle to yourself,
Emily

Eagle, what a lovely story that seems to have struck a cord for many of us as we recall loved ones through pieces we have.

Meredith, excellent idea. Love it!

This post saddens me for another reason. My dear friend who lost her son last week has no other children to leave things to. That breaks my heart. She is also an only child. I am definitely battling with God over this loss.

I have a bookshelf that was moms. I can't get rid of it because I recall how she anguished over getting rid of the majority of her book collection when she moved from the house in which we are all raised. She took only a few to their apartment and I know it was hard on her. Boy can I relate. My book collection grows weekly and I can't imagine having to part with the majority of them.

What do you have that you would like to see passed along to your loved ones? Anything?

Eagle, your post was a treasure. Renee, I have a feeling that what goes around comes around, and in some twist of ironic fate you will get what is rightfully yours. Dotsie, I'm sorry about your friend's sons death. I was done in by stickers. My nephew who died a year and a half ago at age 17 was a saxaphone player, amongst other musical instruments. Yesterday at the crafts store I saw a bunch of music instrument related stickers, and it made me cry just to think of him and his talent, gone for good.

Stickers, who would have thought. I'll never be able to look at jeely beans the same way again. Our young friend who just died loved eating jelly beans at our house when he was little. In fact, he even called my hubby "Beans." There are certain things that will always trigger an immediate recollection of him, but that's a good thing because we want to remember him and they are good memories. I'm sure your thoughts of him when you saw the stickers were good memories too. Be sure to call his mom and tell her what happened. I think they like to hear that we remember their loved ones.

What a loving and touching story. What is that saying...as long as we have memories no one is truly gone? And how comforting to have something to 'touch' from the past that was a part of so many lives.

My husband's grandmother (we lost her two years ago...she was 94)...always sat in an old burnt orange high-back chair. She sat in that chair and told me stories of her childhood, played her fiddle and guitar, and watched her soaps from that chair. She collapsed suddenly one afternoon and died a week later. No one wanted her chair because just before her collapse she had vomited on the arm and needed cleaning. Out of all her possession when I saw that chair, I thought of her. When I found out it was going to be put on the curb, I asked my husband if he'd mind bringing it home and that I'd clean it up. He did and I cleaned her chair until it looked new again. It now sits in my living room and is where I like sitting when I do my needlework and watch my soap.

Hopefully, we'll all leave something behind that someone will find value in to remind them of us. Whether it be a broken old chest or a chair with sick stains on it. They serve as testimony that we did exist and that we were a part of our families lives. Memories, we'll always have them, but to be able to touch something that belonged to a loved one, no matter how tattered or torn, gives us something that has remained when the physical part of the one we love has left us forever.

What good stories we are telling on this thread, despite that sadness attached. Dotsie, I had not realized that your friend's son was nearly a part of your family since he was little. I'm really sorry. Dee, I think that chair was meant for you.

My mamaw, bless her, died when I was 22. I miss her so much...she was the one constant in my life...the one person I knew I could always count on to love me unconditionally. Losing her was like losing my soul. I have two things of hers that I treasure. One is a crocheted doily that although is dingy and has a couple of holes, is displayed proudly in my home. I also have a piece of cloth, no more than 1" X 1" with her initial "A" stiched in pink on it. When she lived with us years and years ago she stiched her initial on her sheets so she could tell them apart from ours. The sheet eventually had to be thrown away but I cut out the part where she'd embroidered her initial. These two items mean the world to me and when I touch them I close my eyes and can see her holding them in her hands and working the needle. I'd rather have her here with me but since I can't, she left me something to hold that she held and I'm so grateful for that.

Dee, what lovely reminders. I especially like the embroidered A from her sheets. Is there a way to preserve that? Maybe you could have it framed?

Lynnie,
There is always comfort in your kind words to me . I resizned in the fact that I will never see that desk again an moms silverware again. I always said life is like a revoling door , be careful what you do it will come back at you. I was always told it is not good to wish ill things on a person , but they had it coming LOL.

Thanks Lynnie ,
Where would I be without out you today ?

Renee

When I was 9 years old I had painted an old rock for my Dad. Till the day he died, he kept this rock on his desk for all his patients to see.

Now it's on my desk, and when I just touch it everything comes back to me; his office, how he would look up from his paper work at night when my brother and I would tiptoe into his bureau to give him a goodnight kiss.

Eagle, I truly can identify with your feelings of attachment to your brother's dresser. I think you have triggered many a deep longing in a beautiful way, that we all have for a lost loved one.

I've really enjoyed listening to these beautiful stories. It's hard to believe that old dresser has been in that room for only a week...it feels like it's always been there. And it feels so right and good that it's there. I shudder now to think of it lying broken and abandoned in a dumpster somewhere. It's so beautiful, and the memories that it evokes are unexpected treasures.

I think it's right and good that we have these "touch connections" with our lost loved ones...they do bring some measure of comfort, and eventually whisper their way through the sadder memories to the happier ones.

That's a great idea Dotsie...I never thought of doing that. I could put it with a picture of her in a frame. Thanks for that idea.