A New Home for Winnie’s Memories
Gary and Samantha stood side by side in the empty living room of their childhood home, the air heavy with an unbearable mix of loss and guilt. The room, once so alive with laughter and warmth, now felt hollow. The walls, stripped of Winnie’s prized State Bowls Champion plaques and family photos, seemed to echo their heartache.
Samantha ran her hand over the mantle, where Winnie used to display her first prize sash for winning the local show’s pavlova competition. “Do you remember how proud she was of that?” Samantha whispered, tears threatening to spill. “She was unstoppable with her pavs, Mum decorated them within a millimetre of the Peppermint Crisp’s life. She is the Pavlova Queen.”
“And the Bowls Champion,” Gary added with a bittersweet chuckle. “I swear, she could whip up a pavlova with clouds for meringue. No one dared bring dessert to Christmas if Mum was in charge.”
“She gave us everything,” Samantha said, her voice breaking as she cradled one of Winnie’s hand-knitted blankets in her arms. “And now… now we’re packing it all away.”
Gary swallowed hard, his throat tight as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’s not forever,” he said, though the words felt empty. “We’re not getting rid of it. We’re just keeping it safe. For her. For us.”
But the truth was, even he couldn’t shake the crushing guilt that weighed on him. Winnie had never put herself first. She had spent her entire life caring for others—nursing their father through his illness, supporting Gary and Samantha through every triumph and failure, and still finding time to knit jumpers for neighbours and whip up perfect pavlovas for every town event. Her love was endless, her heart bottomless.
“She never stopped giving,” Samantha whispered, tears streaming down her face. “And what have we done? We’ve taken her from her home, from everything she built, and put her in a place with strangers. What kind of children does that make us?”
Gary’s jaw clenched, the familiar knot of self-reproach twisting in his chest. “We didn’t have a choice,” he said, though the words offered no solace. “She needs care—real care. Care we can’t give her. But God, I wish it could’ve been different.”
Winnie’s life had been a patchwork quilt of small victories and selfless acts. She was a master of the knitting needles, crafting jumpers and blankets for anyone in need. Every winter, her hands would ache from hours of knitting, but she never complained. And her home—oh, her home—had been her greatest masterpiece.
Winnie had always been the glue that held their world together. Her home had been a sanctuary, with the old auger stove at its heart, radiating warmth that drew everyone in. Around it, they had laughed, cried, and shared every corner of their lives. Winnie was the soul of that home, and now they were dismantling it piece by piece, like tearing apart the very foundation of their family.
“She loved this place,” Samantha said, her voice breaking. “This was her life. And we’re just… packing it into boxes. How do we even explain that to her?”
Gary ran a hand through his hair, his frustration and sorrow spilling over. “I don’t know. I don’t know how to tell her that we can’t keep her here, that we can’t do this on our own. Every time I see her, I feel like I’ve failed her. Like we’ve failed her.”
Samantha sank onto the bare couch, clutching one of Winnie’s favourite teacups. “She never once let us down. Not when Dad died, not when we needed her. And now, when she needs us the most… we’re sending her away. What kind of children are we?”
Gary sat beside her, his own tears threatening to fall. “We’re children who love her enough to let her go somewhere she’ll be safe. It doesn’t mean it hurts any less.”
Later that afternoon, they loaded the car with carefully labelled boxes: photo albums, Winnie’s bowls uniform, the recipe book sticky with years of love, and her knitting needles. Each item felt like a piece of her soul they couldn’t bear to part with.
At the storage facility, the manager, greeted them with a kind smile that made Gary’s throat tighten. “You’re doing the right thing,” she said gently. “Sometimes love means making the hardest choices.”
As they placed the last box in the storage unit, Samantha lingered over Winnie’s wedding ring, carefully wrapped in a velvet pouch. “It feels like we’re putting her away, I’m keeping her wedding ring with me, Gary” she said, her voice trembling.
Gary closed the roller door and locked it, the sound echoing like a final goodbye. “We’re not putting her away,” he said softly. “We’re holding on to her. To everything she is.”
That evening, they visited Winnie at the aged care facility. She was sitting in the garden, her frail hands resting in her lap. Humming a tune that neither of them recognised, and yet, somehow it seemed familiar. When Winnie looked up and saw them, her face lit up with a fleeting smile.
“There you are,” she said, her voice warm but uncertain. “Did you bring the pavlova? Everyone’s waiting for dessert.”
Samantha knelt beside her, tears spilling freely. “Not tonight, Mum. We just wanted to see you.”
Winnie reached for her hand, her touch still as soft as it had always been. “You’re good kids,” she said. “You’ve always been good kids.”
Gary turned away, his chest heaving as he tried to hold back the sob that threatened to escape. How could she still think that, after everything?
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the garden, Samantha whispered, “We’re so sorry, Mum. For everything.”
Winnie smiled, her gaze drifting to the daisies dancing in the breeze. “Memories… they’re funny, aren’t they? Even when they fade, they’re still there. Somewhere.”
Gary and Samantha walked away that night with their hearts heavy and broken, but also filled with a fragile sense of purpose. They couldn’t change what was happening. They couldn’t undo the decisions they’d made. But they could honour Winnie in the only way they knew how—by holding on to her memories, her treasures, and the love she had so selflessly given them.
Because even as her mind faded, the woman who had built their world would never truly be lost.
“Memories… they’re funny, aren’t they? Even when they fade, they’re still there. Somewhere.”
