Memory & Moment
After watching a YouTube documentary about a reseller who digs through abandoned mines searching for turn-of-the-century Levi’s — dusty, stiff, but still intact — I’ve been thinking about how things made with care tend to last, even after the hands that made them are gone.
It reminds me of what I do as a reseller, always searching for hidden gems at the thrift store.
That’s what draws me to vintage clothing and boots: they were made to endure. The stitching, the patina, the quiet defiance of time. You can tell someone poured pride into them.
I started reselling in 2018 as a way to clear out office clothes I didn’t wear anymore. Douglas would always help me — ordering supplies, dropping off sales at the post office, reminding me to stay stocked on USPS boxes because “after Thanksgiving, they’ll take forever to arrive.”
The last month he was alive, he ordered USPS boxes for me, but they never came. A few months after he passed, the boxes showed up on my doorstep — late, unexpected, and strangely comforting. Sometimes I get a sense that he’s still helping me, still finding small ways to show up. Lately, I’ve been restoring boots more intentionally, knowing how many unsold items end up in landfills. Douglas supported every new thing I tried. He’d come home with a new sustainable cleaner, excited to show me something he thought would help. Now I mostly use vinegar, water, and mild detergent — simple things that work, simple things that last. This Thanksgiving, I’m grateful for the things — and people — that endure. The boots that hold stories. The memories that don’t wear down. And the love that still shows up in quiet reminders.
Reflection: Gratitude That Outlives Loss
Grief has a way of sharpening the ending, sometimes so much that it overshadows
everything that came before. But gratitude helps bring the whole picture back into view — not just the tragedy, but the tenderness, the support, the everyday love that lasted far longer than the final moment.
Thankfulness doesn’t erase grief, but it shifts the weight. It lets the good rise again.
Supportive Practices to Honor What Endures
Memory Inventory: List three things your loved one taught you that are still part of how you live today — even in small ways.
• Repurpose With Care: Choose one old or worn item you can clean, repair, or restore. Let the act of giving something new life be its own quiet gratitude.
• Journaling Prompt: What’s one memory that still brings warmth when everything else feels heavy? How does it continue to move through your life now?
Some things are built to last — boots, memories, the steady kinds of love. What was made with care continues, even now.
Healing Calendar Reflection
Gratitude doesn’t ask you to forget the hard parts. It invites you to notice what remains — the small, lasting reminders of care, love, and moments that still warm the edges of grief.
Prompt: What memory or daily ritual reminds you that the good didn’t disappear — it simply changed form?
