A Place Where Hearts Can Rest
Our homes tell stories.
Sometimes they tell the story of love.
Sometimes they tell the story of loss.
And sometimes they remind us that peace changes with us throughout life.
This is one of those stories.
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Mommie captured Daddy sleeping, his younger brother, Uncle Jerry, and three wide-awake grandchildren during a family moment.
I can still picture Mommie and Daddy's bedroom.
It had a beautiful, sturdy wooden bed with a large decorative headboard. In the center was a mirror, and on each side were little built-in glass carriage lamps. Matching wooden nightstands sat beside the bed. Mommie's dresser was wood, and so was Daddy's chest. Everything matched because they had chosen it together.
Looking back, their room reflected both of them. It had strength and femininity all at once.
I loved hanging out in their room while Daddy was at work. Sometimes I'd talk with Mommie about her life or listen to stories about Bigmomma. Sometimes I'd pick up one of her bottles of cologne just to smell it. Other times I'd be in mild trouble because I'd teased my big brother or little sister. No matter what was going on, their room always felt safe. It was the place they created together—a place that brought them both peace and comfort.😌
After Daddy passed, Mommie surrounded herself with colors and furnishings that brought her peace.
After Daddy passed😔, Mommie changed the room into what gave her peace in a world without him.
The warm wood furniture gave way to glass, soft mauve tones, and black accents. Her bed had a headboard
with a shelf, backed by a mirror extending the full length across. There was a beautiful armoire with a pullout television shelf and five spacious drawers beneath it, matching nightstands, and two chests placed side by side with a round glass mirror above them. The mirror, painted with mauve and black geometric designs, came from the same furniture store and completed the room perfectly.
The warmth of wood had given way to softer colors, but the purpose of the room remained the same. It was still a place where Mommie found peace.🧘🏻♀️
Years later, it became my turn.
As the only surviving child of three, my children and I returned to our home state, loaded Mommie's furniture, and brought both her and everything she loved back home with us. She was saddened to discover that some of the furniture had been damaged during the move, but even then, she never stopped seeing it as home.
Eventually, Mommie took her final rest😔.
Though the colors changed, the memories never did.
I removed my own bedroom furniture. It had been white and gold. Instead, I kept hers.
The mauve tones didn't reflect me, but the furniture reminded me of her. So I painted the mauve gold, leaving the black trim and glass just as they were.
The furniture became ours.
Her peace blended with mine.
Today, when my children and grandchildren walk into my bedroom, they often comment on how peaceful it feels.
I smile when they say that.
Because they're feeling both of us.💞
--Resa