At 62…Command Central

All my life, I wanted twin recliners in the den. Instead, I always had some form of couch and/or loveseat combination. Then I found that Mike loved recliners. Score!

When we moved into our home in Dover, we had two old ones. They sat side by side. Both had good views of the TV, the windows, etc. But the one on the right had access to two tables and two lights. It was directly in front of the TV set. I dubbed it Command Central.

When we started merging homes, Mike moved his things to Dover first. He claimed his spot. He left for Alaska, and I finished moving the rest of my things up from Houston. I started in the other chair, then decided what the heck? I’m here. I get Command Central.

I settled in. Had my paperwork center, all my notes, my magazines, etc. close at hand. The recliner functioned as my desk and phone center as I got our utilities straightened out, dealt with the movers, etc.

When Mike came home, he graciously took the other chair. Said he was just fine there. Then one day, he “forgot” and sat in my new chair. It didn’t take long before he’d slid right back into his place as the lord and master of Command Central. He took a lot of teasing from me over it, but his rump remained firmly planted directly in front of the TV!

We celebrated that fall with new den furniture. We replaced the old recliners and bought two new big cushy, comfy ones. We often wished we had the nice long couch we took to the cabin, but we enjoyed our own separate space and place, too.

For the past six months, Command Central has remained empty. After Mike died, I cleaned up his TV tray, but I left his tables alone. I’ve been sitting in the other chair. It’s not exactly just as Mike left it, but it’s pretty close. It was comforting at first, but no longer.

After Al died, for five years, it was like he’d simply gone to the store. Everything was pretty much where he’d left it. It wasn’t good for me, but I couldn’t bring myself to move his things. Mike helped me move forward, and I promised him I would never do that to myself again.

So as I clean the house from a summer’s absence, it’s also time to clean up Command Central. This time, I realize I’m not making Mike disappear. I’ve just decided it’s time to use the space. He’d be quite pissed at the thought of a BarcaLounger shrine in the den.

I look at all that’s left on his table. Scattered pens, little bottles of hand lotion, a couple of unopened energy drinks, hand sanitizer, a scattering of screwdrivers, zip ties, pill bottles, a bag of Kit Kats and so much more. It’s a combo of Mike in full energy mode and Mike fighting cancer.

So. Tonight, I finally did it. I moved back into Mike’s chair. I cleaned up his space, put some things away, boxed some memories and tossed what was no longer needed. I once again have direct line of sight to the TV, the use of two tables and two lamps. I’m sitting here as I write this, and it feels good. I’m cozy in our corner. It feels like a very large hug.

Every day, I feel Mike pushing me to find my own energy again, to move through my own days in full-out mode, and to reclaim our house to reflect our dreams, not his illness.

Mike will never be gone from our home. Our possessions are mingled, our memories are strong. We talked a lot about this. I promised to live for both of us. That’s the one thing he pushed me to do after he died. To live fully – and don’t dare freeze in place.

Settling back into Command Central…at 62.