not just things

Today I threw away some of our Discovery Toys Stacking Cups.  My mom had these cups when I was little and when I was pregnant for the first time, I splurged on them for my new son-to-be (Discovery Toys are pricey!).  I knew they were good quality and could last for years and years, through many kids.  I was so excited.  I bought lots of baby things, but there were only a few things I expected to stay with me until I became a grandmother, and those cups were one of them.

When TJ was little, I made towers and he knocked them over.  When Eli was little, TJ made towers and Eli knocked them over and it made TJ so mad.  But it was so fun!  I just knew those little cups would be with me for all my babies.  Not all of our baby toys would make it to the last kid, but I knew I would keep those cups for my grand babies someday, just like my mom saved hers.

But today I had a box with 5 of the 12.  The other 7 might show up, they might not.  The 5 I had were stinky and covered in fiberglass insulation.  Even if I washed them clean, plastic absorbs chemicals that can be harmful for years to come.  Not ideal for baby toys.  So, I threw them away.

Mostly I don't mind throwing away all our toys.  We had too many.  They are toys.  We can buy new.

And, I can buy new cups.

But they won't be the cups that TJ and Eli played with.  They won't be the cups I bought with all those new-mommy hopes and dreams.  It's just not the same.

It's hard when people say they were just things.  I know.  They were.  And yes, the most important things (my family) made it out just fine!  We are so grateful.

But there were some things, like those stacking cups, and the picture frame we bought on our first anniversary trip to Jackson hole, and the chair that was my great-grandmothers, that were precious.

Oh, that chair.  There was this chair - it belonged to my Grandma Dodd.  My Grandmother's mother.  It was grey.  She had it for a long time.  Eventually she re-covered it white and had it in her room for several years.  It was a beautiful chair.  My grandma moved to a smaller house two years ago, and she gave me that chair.

I know that some of her daughters probably would have liked to have that chair.  It was their grandmother's chair, after all, and a beautiful chair to boot.  But Grandma gave it to me and I loved it.  I took good care of it and never let the kids use it, ever.  I kept a sheet on it to keep it clean.  It was my Grandma's and I wanted it to last my whole life. 

And I ruined it.  I didn't go grab it the night of the fire (yes, there was time - it didn't cross my mind but I wish it had).  It smelled like smoke all the way into the wood frame, damaged, ruined.  So I left it.  But I keep wondering if I should have saved it, should have found a way to restore it, should have paid whatever the cost.  I keep thinking I should have said no when Grandma offered it to me, and let someone else have the chair.  Someone who could have taken better care of it.  I can't seem to let go of that guilt.

I didn't have very much that was worth anything.  Most of what we lost was cheap furniture, hand-me-downs that were ages old and ready to be replaced.  It's just those few things, the few precious things.  Things I can never replace.  Those are what make this so hard.