The Truth about the Chair

The Rocking Bear Chair that is pictured in the blog post, When a Chair Becomes a Throne (and also in the Header for the Blog, Adventures in the Ordinary) was a handmade Christmas gift to Molly from her Poppy. 

He made two chairs, identical for Molly and Megan, as Christmas gifts on what would be Molly's 2nd and last Christmas with us. 

After Molly had died, I didn't know if I was ever going to be able to have a "group picture" taken again without it ripping out my heart. I completely rebelled against the idea for the Christmas that came upon us that first year. About the time that the first anniversary came about, I knew I had to get some pictures, no matter how it felt inside. 

My friend, Michelle (who was also my Maid of Honor at my wedding) met me at her studio in L.A. and we went to work. She suggested that since I couldn't bring Molly, to bring something that was special to her and we would try to work it in. The Rocking Bear Chair seemed like the perfect choice, as it was symbolic of the loved that was poured on her while she was here, and it showed her absence. 

Emily is just approaching age 7, and the hand on her hip has pretty much stayed there since about this time (perhaps even sooner). 

Austin is 5 and a half in the photo and Adam is 19 months, the same age as Molly when she died. The Pooh Bear that Adam is holding is Molly's bear. She stole it from Adam at the time of his birth. 

I don't need to explain why I love this particular photograph of the three of them. I only wish I knew what was done to draw out such joy. I'd go there again. And again. 

And then there is this photograph of Emily and Austin and the chair. At a moment, when Adam decided to wander...Michelle caught Emily and Austin in a moment that showed them a little torn. I like this picture, because they were a little torn. They knew that their sister was gone, and they didn't quite get it. 

They went through phases of fear and anger, and as much as I wish that they didn't have to go through that, I am so thankful if it means that they learned to take their disappointments to the Lord. 

Eventually, they outgrew their memories of Molly, and it became up to me to help them. It was when that began to happen that I was so thankful for moments like these, and photographs, and even Rocking Bear Chairs. 

Finally this.  My all time favorite picture of Emily and Austin. Yes, I know that Adam is not in it (again), but it is just such a precious photograph. Eventually, they grew older and worked together at IN-N-OUT and traveled together to Africa. Eventually, she married and moved out.  But, on this day, they were just Em and Austi.

To read what is new with The Rocking Bear Chair...click on the link to When a Chair Becomes a Throne at Adventures in the Ordinary.

Eating apples

Today when I was talking with Austin about memories and the importance of us sharing our memories with one another, he gave me of one I didn't have. He mentioned that one of his earliest memories was of the morning that his little sister, Molly, died. His memories were in snippets:

-firetrucks

-paramedics

-coming into the room while his Dad was shaking Molly, trying to wake her

-eating apples

Considering that Austin was just barely a 4-year-old on that 31st morning of January when Molly went to be with the Lord, I shouldn't be surprised that his "list" of memories is something similar to an episode of Sesame Street. It's kind of like playing the game "One of These Things is Not Like the Other". The first three go together, in the tragic reality of what that morning was. The forth is so random.

But, I know immediately the reason he remembers the apples. It was because of a neighbor. One of our neighbors at the time, and I sadly only remember the name of her son, David (who was also 4 at the time) heard the sirens as the fire department entered into our tract of homes in the quiet city of Placentia, California and she came to see what was happening.

How I appreciate this woman in her boldness to walk up to our home and into the scene. She volunteered to take my children to her home so that we could leave with the ambulance. The police would have kept Emily and Austin, and most likely would have found the additional baby, our Adam, in his crib in a back bedroom. But, how much fear would have come with that experience. Instead, this sweet neighbor took my three little innocents to her home and gave them a snack. While they sat eating apples, she called the school to tell them that Emily would not be in Kindergarten that day, and perhaps for a few.

I wish that life had happened differently, but I am thankful that my young son's memories are of eating apples when our world was being tilted off it's axis. For truth and pain would come soon enough.