There are countless beloved people, places, events, and things from different parts of my life that brought me so much comfort and enjoyment. Unfortunately, many of them have died, gotten lost, been destroyed, or are otherwise no longer around on Earth. While they were once endlessly available to me, now they’re only pictures in my head. Here are some of them.
A great example of this is all the things I loved at Disney World that have been removed this decade. Aside from rides, shows, and other attractions, I miss lots of the land theming, especially figures. With DinoLand U.S.A. in Animal Kingdom, I so wish that I could go see Cementosaurus and other dinosaur figures from that land somewhere else. It would be lovely to see them in another Disney World theme park, resort hotel, Disney Springs, or even in a museum somewhere else in the world. The fact that they were destroyed and thus can’t be seen anywhere is heartbreaking to me, especially with Cementosaurus as his big, friendly, smiling face will never welcome anybody to a fun place ever again. I so wish he’d been moved to another location, whether next to Gertie at Disney’s Hollywood Studios, near the T-Rex restaurant in Disney Springs, or somewhere else where he could continue sharing smiles with guests.
The same goes for Muppets Courtyard. Even if MuppetVision 3D reappears elsewhere in Disney World or even somewhere else outside the parks and is the exact same show that it used to be, it will still be in a different theater and part of the world than it was before. It’s even worse for the Stage 1 Company Store, which used to showcase Muppet memorabilia and sell Muppet merchandise. Unfortunately, it was demolished in 2025 to make way for new attractions. There’s no bringing that back, and that makes me feel sad.
I feel immense comfort in making physical contact with beloved things from my past. My Huckle Cat plushie is one of my favorite stuffed animals in large part because he’s been with me for almost all of my life. He’s still in great shape, looks almost exactly the same now as he did thirty years ago, and, aside from his voice box no longer working, has held up great over time. Holding, hugging, and cuddling him brings me immense comfort and reminds me of watching The Busy World of Richard Scarry along with him as a kid, going to preschool and elementary school, and doing other enjoyable activities when life was much simpler, easier, and overall more fun than it is now. He helped me a lot when I started my current job last year and still helps me feel better after a hard day at work or elsewhere. I’d feel devastated if he ever got lost, stolen, hurt, or destroyed, or otherwise separated from me. I hope he stays with me for the rest of my life.
This is why I feel so grateful to have many of my dog Sawyer’s belongings. They’ve brought immense comfort to me since he died over four years ago. I’ll never understand how somebody can give away blankets, beds, toys, leashes, harnesses, collars, bowls, and other items after their pets die. Or how some try desperately to forget they ever had a pet in the first place. The memories we made together and the love we shared kept me alive after Sawyer died. I wouldn’t have made it this far without them.
Of course, this also applies to my other loved ones who’ve died. Whether my grandparents or other human and animal family members and friends, I so miss being able to talk with, hug, and be around them. That’s by far the hardest part about their absences. As grateful as I feel for pictures and videos of them as well as some personal mementos of theirs that I kept after they died, I still wish I could interact with them physically as we once did. It still hurts whenever I reflect on the fact that we can’t anymore.
This is part of why I’ve found it harder to get rid of things over the last four years. So much of what I have brings back memories whenever I use, hold, or even simply see it. Many of these memories come flooding back after they’ve been gone for years. I fear that if I give up those possessions, I’ll also lose the memories they hold. At this point, I’d rather have “too much” stuff that reminds me of the best humans, animals, and times in my life than give up something that takes me back to those precious times with wonderful folks, especially when those folks are long gone. Fortunately, I need neither forgiveness nor permission from anybody else to do what brings me comfort, so I’ll keep this up as long as I need. I hope it continues helping me until I no longer need that help.