A Resting Place for
the Things We Loved

A violin Grandpa carried across the ocean — the one he played at every wedding, lost in a house fire.

An antique vanity with a tri-fold mirror — Grandma's, then Mom's, then gone.

A hand-painted ornament — the one from our first Christmas together, broken in a move.

A fedora — the hat Dad wore every day for 30 years, lost at a restaurant.

A collection of keychains from every place we visited — 20 years of travel, lost in a move.

A wooden crib — the one that held three generations of babies, lost in a flood.

A Zoomer robot dog — the interactive pup that responded to voice commands, lost in a garage sale.

A collection of keychains from every place we visited — 20 years of travel, lost in a move.

A snow globe from our honeymoon — the one with the tiny waterfall inside, shattered in a move.

A collection of fridge magnets from every city — the map of our travels, lost in a house fire.

A vintage postcard from the Eiffel Tower — the one Grandpa sent Grandma in 1952, lost in a flood.

A coin collection — 50 years of coins from every country, stolen in a burglary.

A Zoomer robot dog — the interactive pup that responded to voice commands, lost in a garage sale.

A Sphero robot ball — the app-enabled robot my kids drove around the house, lost in a move.

A Roomba robot vacuum named Biscuit — the family robot that cleaned the house for five years, lost in a move.

A Sony AIBO robot dog named Rusty — the robotic companion that learned my routines, lost in a house fire.

A Robosapien robot — the one I taught to do a dance, lost in a move.

A Pleo baby dinosaur robot — the one that responded to my voice, lost in a divorce.

A Neopets account with a Faerie Kau named Starlight — ten years of daily care, lost to a hacked email.

A gray Furby named Gizmo — the annoying, beloved companion of my childhood, lost in a move.

A Tamagotchi Connection V4 — the one I traded my best Pokemon card for, lost at school.

A Digimon virtual pet — the one I trained from egg to Mega level, lost in a move.

A Webkinz Golden Retriever named Buddy — my first virtual pet with a real plush, lost in a flood.

A save file with a level 100 Charizard — the team I spent 200 hours building, lost to a dead battery.

A garden mosaic table — the one Mom made from broken tiles, shattered in a storm.

A ceramic pot with a glaze that looked like the ocean — the best thing I ever bought, broken by the cat.

A half-finished oil painting — the one I kept meaning to complete, lost in a studio flood.

A bronze sculpture of a dancer — the piece that stopped me in my tracks, lost in a house fire.

A watercolor of the Amalfi coast — painted by a street artist on our honeymoon, lost in a flood.

An old Japanese woodblock print — the one that hung in Grandpa's study, sold at an estate sale.