Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Everything is gonna be all right -

Name Carrie
Date 08-26-08
Subject Assignment #1



I had a blankie and a security pillow. I still have a piece (literally, a tiny little piece) of the blankie. The pillow on the other hand, well I have it still. And for good reason. Thats it right there in the picture.

When I was little I would sleep on it and pull at the little feathers that would sometimes poke through at night when I was scared. I knew everything would be all right.

Sometimes I would put it on my Moms lap and lay there with her when I was sad. She would stroke my hair and everything would be all right.

When my mom was sick I would hug it at night and cry. I thought everything would be all right.

My mom didn't beat the cancer that she fought so hard against, and for a moment I thought nothing would ever be all right. I was questioning a lot of things at that time.
I would lay with that pillow at night, or in the morning, or whenever I needed to, and every once in a while I would notice it smelled like her. Things were not all right, but they were ok.

Then something happened. Our dog got a hold of the pillow, and chewed a hole right in the middle of it. I was devastated. It may sound ridiculous to some, but I was a sixteen year old girl devastated at the loss of her "blankie" that was for her, a pillow. Most probably didn't get it.

One person did...my dad. He took the pillow, found some thread and a needle and got to work. I laugh at it now. He is most definitely not a sewer. He grabbed the edges of the hole the dog had created, gathered them in a wad and ran the needle back and forth and sideways and however he could to close up the hole. It was/is not pretty. It doesn't matter though. In that moment, he was the dad, the mom, the comforter, the fixer, the everything. The man, that for sixteen years had just been my dad become both parents at that moment. I knew then that everything was going to be all right. It would never be ok that she was gone, but I knew at that moment, that we would make it.

We did..And some days, even though it has been nearly 16 years are much much harder than others. Some days I need the pillow, or the thought of it rather, and what it represents. I don't hold it for comfort anymore, but I will always have it near me.

Since that day, the pillow has had the case replaced twice (you can still feel that ball on the actual cover that dad fixed), it has moved four times (one out of state). It has endured many more memories.

My Dad and I have had a few downs, but mostly ups. He is an amazing man and father. I don't need that moment like that to see it now, but I guess I did then.

I don't have to sleep with that pillow every night anymore, but I know its there when I want it. It sounds odd to most that a 31 year old still has a pillow that brought her comfort as a child, but for me, its so much more than that.

19 comments:

Caroline said...

What a sweet story. I bet that meant a lot to your father that you asked him to fix it. He sounds like a wonderful man. Glad to see the pillow is still holding up, my blanket, while still "living", hasn't fared as well.

Rhonda said...

Oh. *Sigh* What a friend that pillow has been to you. Thank you for sharing!

Melissa said...

This is a beautiful story! Thanks for sharing it. I also have a pillow that was my grandmother's with the original pillowcase. It's funny how the smallest of things can give you so much comfort.

Tabi said...

What a sweet thing! I love this and what a great dad to understand that it wasn't just the pillow itself!

Emily said...

So sweet!

Tara said...

Loved your story! I saw your post on Kat's blog. You have such a sweet dad!

Tara said...

Oh... and I gave you an award on my blog today. ;)

Ren said...

Such a sweet story. Thank you so much for sharing it with us!

Emily said...

So sweet. Kudos to your dad for trying his hardest to save it!

Diva Ma said...

Great post and great dad. My dad has brain cancer and this almost made me cry.

Mama's Losin' It said...

And now I'm crying. Thanks a lot. I lost my Dad when I was a little girl and I am terrified that something is going to happen to Pat or I and my kids will have to experience that pain.

I'd be holding on to that pillow too!!

Kayla said...

That story made me cry! I loved it!

Kari said...

I think these "homework" assignments are a great idea, and I really enjoyed your story. Thanks for coming by my blog today!

Heather said...

What a sweet story!

Tammy said...

Thanks for this post. I am coming up on the first anniversary of my mothers death on monday. It helped to read that there will be better days ahead.

Jennifer P. said...

I kind of alluded to a comment on this, but it really deserves one of its own. You should really be writing! I love when someone can reach down into themselves and pull something like this out!

I cried because of your mom going. I cried because of your dad trying so hard to fill both roles. Those are so close to home right now---and it feels so good to know that someone else has endured what I have. You are a special lady Carrie! And I wish you only good things!

Thank you for this.

Carrie said...

Thanks to you all for the amazing comments! I was nervous to post that one, but I am glad I did. It felt good to share it, and you are all so kind with your comments

careysue said...

I just found you through kat's blog...amazing post very heartfelt. My brothers died recently and left children, my older brother's kids called his cell phone as long as they could just to hear his voice mail!

They also made a quilt for my niece out of my brothers shirts. She loves it.

Thanks for sharing.

ckrae said...

Your Mom had a special pillow also. Ask your Dad. She took it everywhere she went. It was the pillow she had at Papa and Grandmas house. It went to college with her and then to Ohio. It was a site for sore eyes. But she kept it with her at all times. I still remember seeing it when Papa and I would come down to see your mom when she was sick. Not sure where it is today. It may have been put away or thrown away, but I can still see your Mom with it.