As some of you know I’ve recently been inspired to clean out
and get rid of things that no longer serve me and get them to people who can
use these items. You know the likes – boxes of clothing a size too small that
one-day will fit again, or coats for skiing when one no longer skis. These
things are no longer of value to me, but for another person, it’s just the item
they need. It’s been gratifying to let go of these things I’ve clung on to for
so many years and to watch as they go to people who really need and appreciate
them.
And then there are those things that you forget about,
things that have incredible meaning and value, even if only to you. One of the
things I found in a storage container last week was the top of a pair of men’s
pajamas. They belonged to my late husband, Calvin. Although it’s been nearly 18
years since he passed away, I still remember buying him those pajamas and how
he wore them those last two months until the day he died. Green and navy
stripes with small red squares that look a bit like a Scottish tartan. Silky
fabric. Floods of memories…
Recently I came down with what I can only think is the flu
as I was knocked down into bed for the past 48 hours. I pulled the top out of
the drawer and wore it these past two days but it was only today I noticed it…
the thing that knocked me down again, this time to my knees in tears. It was so
small I might have missed it. A tiny pin attached to the lapel. I couldn’t see
it clearly with out my glasses buy it didn’t matter. I knew immediately what it
was and when it found it’s home on my husband’s pajamas, and why.
My husband was a good husband and father. His children
adored him, all of them, but he had a special relationship with our youngest
son, Tyler who was born seven years after our last child. Being older parents
perhaps we were more prepared to enjoy him than when we were both working full
time and trying to raise several children. Anyway, I digress… The pin.
Tyler had barely turned six-years-old when his dad was
diagnose with terminal cancer. He watched, as we all did, his hero shrivel up
and disappear. It was hard times for everyone. Dark days. But a light in
everyday was when little Tyler came home from school. I could hear him as he
ran up the stairs into his father’s bedroom every afternoon. “Hi Daddy”, he
would say softly putting his tiny hand on his daddy’s shoulder. Cal would
awaken from his near constant sleep and smile. “Do you need some fresh water
Daddy?” he would ask. “Yes please,” Cal would respond. And so it would go day after day.
One day Tyler ran up the stairs to his Daddy’s bedroom and he
couldn’t wake him up, so instead he placed his new Boy Scout pin, Bear Cats, on
the lapel of his daddy’s pj’s. “So he’ll know I was here,” he said with a
smile.
Today, laying in this bed for the second day in a row I
noticed this small pin on the pajamas I was wearing and a flood of memories
washed over me—some heart wrenching, some sweet.
Life has a way of moving on when you aren’t watching. It’s
astounding to me that in less than a month it will have been 18 years since
Calvin died. That sweet boy Tyler now has a sweet son of his own.
I’m thankful for the memories, the good ones and the hard
ones. I’m thankful for a husband who
gave me a beautiful family and a good life and in spite of all the stuff I’ve
uselessly held on to for so many years, I’m thankful today I kept this silky
pajama top and the pin my son placed on it 18 years ago.
© Cynthia Stewart is an
international speaker and the author of many books, which
Include Dream Big! and
Creating Wealth on The Web. Through many challenges that she has fought and
won, Cynthia knows first-hand how to dream big and has dedicated her life to
empower other’s to stand-up, step-out, and reach their dreams. She can be
reached at www.cynthiastewart.com
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