The Red La-Z-Boy

Dear Mama,

This weekend my Dad drove down to our new place in Santa Fe and delivered your favorite red chair that I have been holding onto for the 10 years since you died.

We untied the straps and ruffled green tarp and lifted it out of the bed of the truck late the night he arrived. In the dark I couldn’t quite see how much dust accumulated in the last decade of my Dad’s generous friends housing this big chair in their spare rooms as I travelled across continents and rented rooms only twice its size. I must admit, I didn’t have much hope that it would be in very good shape since last time I sat in it, I was competing with Laurian’s cats scratching the sides.

Today, I vacuumed it in the daylight, maybe for the first time since you died, and caught gobs of dust, hair (possibly yours?) and dirt. I sprayed organic spot cleaner on the stains and scrubbed through the fine grooves of deep red fabric with a sponge. I clipped the strangling fibers that the cats pulled off and zipped off the pillow cover into the washing machine. Pulling that dusty white pillow out of the case while listening to “Hey Jude” made me feel close to you.

When I pulled off the tag on the bottom of the chair reading “La-Z-Boy Incorporated Expected to ship 11-11-02” I flashed back to the blurry memory the day you brought it home. I remember oo-ing and awe-ing over the deep maroon and the perfectly rounded wooden arm rests. We argued and giggled when I discovered there was no “Y” in “La-Z-Boy” and I insisted on calling it the Laz-boy. I’d sit on it anytime you weren’t in the sun room and try to convince you to let me stay there when we would binge watch Gilmore Girls together.

Now it sits on top of the Persian carpet in our expansive living room. I look at this big presence in the room and I see a flash of your golden blonde hair. Your laugh is wafting through the high desert breeze coming in through the window. I sit my body down into the cozy hug of these cushions and I feel your arms around me. There’s something so magical about sitting in your favorite chair 10 years after you died and still feeling your love in its embrace. I can touch what you touched. So, somehow you feel closer. Sitting here is a settling to my body that I’ve missed since your body left my side.

A lot has changed since that La-Z-Boy tag was stapled on here in 2022 when I was still in my lavender phase, or lime green phase or pepto bismol pink phase. When you died I had just started to develop into my decade long love of red that is now in full bloom. You met me in the perfect way, again.

This chair is my new favorite place to feel you. You sat here more than anyone else and I can tell it absorbed your love like a big red sponge. I’m going to sit in it with you when I need to hear your voice and when I’m missing you as we’re wedding planning and dreaming of our future children. If I close my eyes I can almost smell you and your pressure cooker humming brown rice and fresh salmon grilling from the kitchen.

Thank you for reminding me where to find you and that no matter how far you feel, you are everywhere.

___

You’re invited to join me for…

The Wild Heart Podcast with yours truly diving into divinity in daily life. Check out my latest episode with Valarie Kaur on Grief & Revolutionary Love.

Grief Conversations: Tending the Broken Open Heart with our wise friends speaking to specific losses like living with another’s choice not to live, midwifing death and ancestral connection

1:1 sessions with Willow to explore the inner life