I still remember very clearly the fall morning I chose to get rid of our old, worn-out couch. Even though it was cold and cloudy that day, something would happen that would change everything. Bryce, my husband, left early for work, leaving me with our dog. He kept putting off getting rid of the couch even though I asked him to do it for months.
The cloth had faded, the seats had sagged, and the couch smelt musty. It couldn’t be fixed. Even though it was broken, Bryce didn’t want to let it go. I didn’t get it because he was usually realistic about getting rid of things that were no longer useful.
I made up my mind that morning to handle things on my own. A nearby moving company agreed to come get the couch that afternoon after I called them. Seeing the movers take it away made me feel a lot of different things: relieved, guilty, and excited for the new couch that was on its way.
But I had no idea that the couch had a secret. Bryce was crazy when he got home and found out what I had done. The couch had been more than just a piece of furniture, he said. It had held memories and love. It was his and his brother Leo’s safe haven, where they made plans and dreamed.
With Bryce’s story, I saw how the couch had been a link to his past and to his brother who had died. The map they made together and hid under the couch for many years was an important part of his past. I felt terrible about getting rid of the couch because I didn’t know how important it was.
I knew we had to do something to honour those memories as we sat there that night with the map in our hands and thought about Leo. The old couch, with all of its flaws, held a special link that was too important to throw away. I told Bryce, through tears, that we would find a way to remember those times.
As we worked through the difficulties of loss and healing, I realised that things are sometimes truly special because they are flawed and temporary. I thought the couch was just a piece of furniture, but Bryce saw it as proof of how much two brothers love each other.
