The Bed



 If you’ve read Flowers and Stone, you know that it was a big scene and turning point in the story when Rick (aka Luke) took me (aka Darlina) to his house in Brownwood for the first time.

One of the things I noticed right away was the bed. Made in the 1800s, its black and gold ornate metal frame caught my eye. He told me he had bought it at an antique store in the early sixties.


The second thing I made note of was a holster hanging from the centermost point of the head frame with a pistol stuck in it and a leather sheath that held a bowie knife.

For Rick back then, these were simply standard every-day items. He played a street dance in Round Rock every year in celebration of Sam Bass, and he wore that gun belt, as did many others, to the event. Obviously, gun laws were quite different in the sixties and early seventies.

At any rate, after he was incarcerated, I often wondered what had happened to the bed and figured his parents sold it.

When he came home in 1985, one of the first things he found in his nephew’s house was the bed.

It had survived and remained in the family for all those years!

He promptly brought it home, gave it a new coat of paint, a new mattress, and it became OUR bed.

I still have it. Of course, it had several new mattresses over the years, but I sleep on it every night, and this is a tribute to The Bed.

I first knew love on this antique iron bed.

Indescribable heartbreak found me on this bed.

Young and dumb, I lost my way on this bed.

And then I lost the bed, but not my dreams.

It wasn’t until many long years later that the bed returned. Still pristine, still intact…waiting. How ironic that it had not disappeared.

So, over the years, I loved on the bed, laughed on the bed and soaked my pillow with tears on the bed.

It knew all our secrets, all our pain, all our dreams.

I remember one night I awoke in the early hours of the morning, to find Rick awake as well. I told him of a dream I had been immersed in, and as I related it, he interrupted and told me the ending. He had been dreaming the same dream. Bizarre? Well, yes, I suppose, but it happened.

And then Rick became ill. He no longer had enough strength to get back to the bedroom. A hospital bed sat in our living room, and our bed remained empty and untouched, for I would not leave him to go sleep in it.

The first night after he had passed, I slept in our bed, on his side of the bed. It has taken many years to adjust to sleeping alone in our bed, but now it is my comfort, my solace, my refuge and I still sleep on his side of the bed.

I wonder what will happen to it when I am gone. Will my children recognize its significance and preserve it, or will they sell it because it bears no meaning to them? Perhaps I should make my wishes known ahead of time. But, on the other hand, does it really matter what happens to it? I think not. It served its purpose for Rick and will serve me until I am gone. Perhaps I will get to leave this earth on our bed. Who knows?

At any rate, this is a tribute to an inanimate object that holds so much meaning and memories for me — THE BED.











33 thoughts on “The Bed

  1. Inanimate objects can hold much power and influence, Jan, as I’m sure you know. Perhaps you could set up a little museum in Rick’s honor, and bequeath The Bed to it. Just a thought 🙂 ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Who knows where it will end up, Tina. If any of the family has an interest in it, that would make me happy. But, in the meantime, it will continue to be my resting and renewal place. Thanks for stopping by!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Oh, I need my tissue box, Jan. What a beautiful, poignant, heartfelt post. So moving. Thank you for sharing the significance of your bed and all the meaning it has stored up through the years. A touching post. ❤

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Hi Jan
    I’ve found this post last instead of first – UK time accounts for me usually seeing them first, but our Internet has been down. It’s a very touching post, and everything I felt about it has been said by others somewhere among the comments, but I agree with Robert especially. “Young and dumb” just jumped at me and demanded to be read twice.
    Sweet dreams always, in The Bed, my friend.

    Liked by 3 people

  4. I’m writing this through tears, Jan. Yet I’m smiling as well. This is such a moving post, my friend. Thank you for sharing your great joy and your great pain. Cherish those memories, and lay calm in the knowledge that your great love will be waiting for you. Hugs.

    Liked by 4 people

  5. This was a beautiful tribute and story Jan. I got chills reading about how you both had the same dream in that bed. All that love and connectiveness storaged there that comforts you still. Sometimes magic creeps our world and it did it in that antique bed.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. You would be correct, Billy Ray. That is why we write – to express deep parts of ourselves in ways that are both therapeutic and sometimes entertaining. 🙂 I appreciate you dropping by and leaving a comment.

      Liked by 1 person

  6. As others above have said this is a very moving blog. I was privileged to sleep one night on The Bed when my husband and I visited. It was very comfortable. It reminded me of one of those old feather beds from the 1800s. I was touched that you gave us your bed for the night of our visit. I just love it. I’m glad you found it again after Rick got out. That was truly fortunate. It’s very difficult for me to sleep alone too. I have a new bed so have no sentimental attachment. I envy you in lots of ways, sister. Much love and hugs!

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Thank you for your comment, sister. AND, I might add that you’ve slept on The Bed several times since Rick’s passing. 🙂 Funny how we can attach such emotion to objects. I love you and appreciate you in so many ways!


  7. This is a heart bursting story, Jan. This bed is the center of your life and I believe once you pass it will not matter where it goes. For now, it is your anchor and solace. Thank you for sharing this very personal story of your bed.

    Liked by 3 people

  8. Jan, that was such a moving post. I can understand why that bed holds such significance for you. It’s utterly gorgeous, too. Clearly, it was meant to be special for you and Rick. Thank you for such a beautiful tale.

    Liked by 4 people

  9. Jan- What a beautiful story. The Bed holds so many memories and I’m so glad you have found it to be your comfort, solace, and a place to find comfort. One day you’ll be back in Rick’s arms in Heaven, you’ll be embraced in comfort & love, y’alls Lovestory will come full circle.
    Thank you for the beautiful sympathy card you sent me. It was so beautiful and your words gave me peace. Love you and sweet dreams each night in The Bed. 💕💕💜💕💕

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Thank you, sweet Tonya. I know my card cannot heal your broken heart, but just know that you are in my thoughts. Your words made me smile at the thought of our love story coming full circle in the other world. Wow!!


  10. Jan, I love your story and The Bed has become much more than an inanimate object. Your life, Rick’s life and all events and memories that bed carries. You make the bed come alive.
    Beautifully done.
    I have a feeling someone will one day make their own imprint and memories on this very bed.

    Liked by 2 people

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