Joy in Unexpected Places

It took me and my husband 2 ? years to figure out what we wanted to do with Erin’s bedroom.

Since she used a hospital bed, that was removed fairly quickly after she died so we could pass it on to someone else who needed it.

That left her dresser, blankets, photos, her light-up turtle that helped lull her to sleep every night, and lots of empty space, a reflection of the disorder and emptiness in our hearts. We started boxing some things up but never really finished.

It was hard to look in her room, let alone go into her room to sort things out, decide what to donate, what to keep, and what to let go. Most days I averted my eyes when I walked by, or simply closed the door gently.

That’s not what we wanted, yet we were not clear on how we wanted to create the space that both honored Erin and allowed us to make new memories.

Then one day, a friend of mine suggested we consider making it into a Zen Den. A spot we can go to read, reflect, nap, relax, talk, and just “be.” Hmm…that was interesting, and I pondered it quite a few days before I teed it up to my husband.?Without hesitation, he agreed that that would be a great use of the room. After all, he said, we can’t make it into another bedroom; that’s Erin’s room.

Zen Den it is.?And so began the exploration of cozy, comfy couches, end tables and lighting to capture our intention. Little did we know it would take almost 7 months for our custom furniture to arrive. Little did we know that we needed this time to continue to, ever so slowly, organize Erin’s room, make piles for holding onto and letting go.?We actually did not get the final boxes off the floor until the night before our furniture was to arrive.

Having finally moved all boxes out of her room (even if we didn’t finalize the hold on to, let go of piles), we were ready to receive the new. We placed the sectional in a way to maximize comfort, plumped pillows, pulled lighting and décor items from other parts of our house to bring in function and meaning, and added comfort touches like flowers, candles, and cozy blankets.

For the first week, I entered Erin’s room every day, just “being,”, spent some quiet time, and plumped the pillows. Then one morning, I walked by her room on my way to my office and stopped in my tracks. What was going on with the pillows all out of order? Why was the neatly folded blanket strewn over the couch? I folded and fluffed and wondered.

Then a few more days went by when I noticed more movement of the pillows and disarray of the blankets. What was going on?? After I use the room, I always fluff the pillows and fold the blankets, keeping the order and peacefulness of the space.

I came slowly to realize that it was not some secret person who mussed the pillows; it was my son. Hmm…what was going on? This was my husband’s and my vision for what to do with Erin’s old bedroom. What was my son doing messing up the pillows?

The next day when my son got home from work, I asked him about the room. He confirmed that he has been spending time in there. He said he likes to be in there where Erin was. He said he likes to talk to his girlfriend in there. Cue the tears.

How could it not have occurred to me that my son would want to use this space? How could it not have occurred to me that Thomas’ connection with Erin was as strong as my husband’s and my connection, yet unique in its own way?

As a Grief Coach, I support my clients in their grief journey every day. Being on my own grief path reminds me about the unpredictability of the journey.?Thomas’s love for his sister is singular; there is nothing else that can approach the depth or texture of his love for his sister.?What a great reminder he is to me every day, that my experience is not his experience. The fact that he finds spending time in Erin’s old bedroom comforting, our new Zen Den, is deeply moving and life affirming.

My son reminded me to be open and receive joy in unexpected places. He teaches me like no other can about the sweetness of life as it is, even while we miss one of our own.