Jim's Chair

Jim, my husband, who died in 2012, had a favorite chair as most men do. His was a Stratolounger, red and gold plaid, bought in the 70s and used by him daily until his death. I tried to persuade him to let me replace it with a new one many times, but it never worked out. His chair was “broken in” like an old pair of shoes. It sank in all the right places and fit like a glove. A new one was out of the question. “Why would I need a new one?” he asked.

At least he let me move it to a new location in the family room once in a while, and a bi-yearly cleaning kept it looking presentable for a long time, until Mopsy came to stay. Mopsy is my cat who appeared at our front door in 2003. Mopsy has claws and claws are to be sharpened on anything handy which included Jim’s chair. Eventually a few frayed threads developed along the edges which I tried to keep trimmed away but finally gave up on.

During his final ten years every afternoon Jim would nap in his chair covered with a plaid wool blanket even in summertime. The AC made him cold and the heat was never warm enough. He watched television, read the newspaper, and visited with friends all while relaxing in his chair. Sometimes I saw him there when he wasn’t because I was so used to seeing him in it.

So you can imagine the impact the chair had on me after he died. I saw it, and I saw Jim. It was comforting, like a friend, but when I had real company, I saw how terrible it looked and kept thinking that I would have to do something with that chair, get a new one, get it reupholstered, something. I procrastinated with those thoughts for several months, never daring to sit in the chair because it seemed like Jim was sitting there. I could sniff the tweed cloth, and it smelled just like him with a hint of his cologne.

In time, the thoughts of replacing it or getting it reupholstered vanished, and I grew into the idea of keeping the chair…forever. I began to wonder what was so special about it. Why did Jim like it so much? And that is how I came to try out the chair. Now, I’m the one who takes naps in it, reads in it, and relaxes in it. It still looks terrible, but I don’t care. It makes me feel safe and secure exactly like Jim made me feel. Why would I need a new one?