IT'S ONLY A CHAIR

Are you like me? Do you have memories of people that are inextricably linked to objects?

This chair belonged to my paternal grandmother, a woman who played a significant role in my life. When I inherited it in 1997, (upholstered in gold brocade at the time) it served not only as a reminder of her, but also her living room, a cozy place where I spent countless hours as a child.

Little did I know that over time, it would become significant for a very different reason.

This chair came to hold pride of place in every house that I've lived in (and there have been a fair number over the years) precisely because it became the one that my dad always sat in when he came to visit.

I do not doubt that he gravitated to it because it was familiar - a link to his own past.

Seated in this chair, Dad held court at family dinners, holiday gatherings, birthdays - whatever occasion happened to bring us together. He'd be surrounded by his brothers-in-law, talking cars and sipping his signature Crown and Ginger. Once old enough, his grandchildren would offer to top up his drink, regaling him with tales of their exploits. And invariably there would come a moment when he laughed. A quiet man, it took a great deal to make Dad laugh, but when he did, somehow the world seemed to come right.

Dad passed away in 2018. My life has been altered in ways I never could have anticipated, but I only need to look at this chair to see him sitting in it, peering at me over the tops of his glasses – something that became know as 'the look' – as he told my kids that of course they could be up at 7 on Christmas morning (when I had negotiated 8). Those memories, and this chair, serve to soften the sharp edges of grief.

So, yes, it’s only a chair, and yet it is so much more.