The Pillow That Stayed

Finding God’s peace in the tender places of memory and grief

“In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.”

— Psalm 4:8

My new pillows arrived today. I opened the Amazon box.

Then I cried.

Not because the pillows weren’t what I’d expected, but because they marked another step in my life without my husband.

For the last nine months of Ron’s life, he slept in a hospital bed in the dining room. After his death, I moved his pillow back upstairs. It still carried the faint smell of his Old Spice aftershave. In those early nights when sleep evaded me, the pillow reminded me that I had once loved a wonderful man.

Six years have passed. Six years in which I have managed to build a new life without forgetting the old. I’ve written a book about my autistic adult son’s grief journey. I’ve joined a new church and started its blog. I’ve written hundreds of posts on my own blog. I’ve written a Bible study on Psalm 91 for those who, like me, cared for an ill spouse.

And Ron’s pillow remained on his side of the bed, a reminder of what once had been.

Ron’s pillow will stay with me, resting now on my mother’s cedar chest. Still a part of me.

I replaced our Queen -size bed with a full-size one. I painted our room a bright shade of blue. I bought a new couch and lamps and end tables. I said a sad farewell to my father. I visited my son in a psychiatric ward for three weeks when his world shattered. I retired from a long career as a teacher and threw myself wholeheartedly into writing and editing.

And Ron’s pillow stayed.

But the other night, I was on Ron’s side of the bed, reading, his pillow behind my back. It was lumpy and out of shape. I lifted it to reshape and noticed it smelled a little funky.

Maybe…just maybe…it was time for a new pillow.

So I went onto Amazon and ordered new pillows—the hotel variety, soft and plump.

The tears welled up as I unpacked them. More tears—a torrent—as I took Ron’s pillow off my bed. Such an intimate gesture. So personal. A marriage connection. Only I had this piece of Ron. I still needed it in my life, a part of me. I looked around my room. Where could I put it?

Ah, the perfect spot. My mother’s cedar chest. I lifted the pillow off my bed and carried it to its new home.

And I caught a faint whiff of Old Spice aftershave.

Closing Prayer

Lord, You know the tender places of our hearts where memory and grief dwell.

Thank You for the gift of rest and for the reminders of love that linger in our lives.

Teach us to find peace in You, even as we carry the treasures of the past.

May our nights be filled with comfort, and our days with hope.

Amen.

Reflection for Readers

• What object in your home carries a memory of someone you love?

• How might God be inviting you to honor that memory while also embracing new beginnings?

• Tonight, as you lay your head on your pillow, remember that God Himself cradles you in His peace.