This is the biggest furniture refinish I have done, yet.  (Well, my husband did very kindly help me. I worked pretty hard on it too, though.)
But as big of a job as it was for my hands, it was a much bigger job, for my heart.


(‘Before’ thumbnail. The ‘After’ is a must see!)

This is my mother’s dresser.  My mother passed away very suddenly, in 2005.  Her passing hit me like a train, and threw me into a grieving like I had never known. In the state of fog & hurt I lived in, one month after another, the only other thing I was aware of at all, was the depth of grief my father was in. It was hard to watch him go through all he was. I honestly don’t know which hurt more.

This dresser was the only one my mother ever had, in all of my years growing up, since the day I was born.   Except for a few sets of sheets, the drawers of it have been empty for the past several years, since my sister and I cleaned out my mother’s clothing together. But the rest of the house my father has kept exactly, as my mother had it. People say things to him about that, but he can’t understand why anyone thinks he would change anything.

My youngest daughter had moved out of the bedroom she had shared with her triplet brothers, and into her very own room.  I gave her my old white iron twin daybed, from my adolescent years, but she still needed a bureau of some kind.  One night, as I lay in bed, unable to sleep, I got to thinking about what kind of dresser would go best in her room, and when I came up with a long dresser with a mirror, I immediately got thinking about my mother’s.

My intention right along, had been to find an antique or used dresser somewhere in my hunting, and refinish it.  We don’t buy much of anything new.  But when I remembered my mother’s, I knew I had more thinking to do.  You see, I knew my father wasn’t going to use it again.  He has the tall dresser, that goes with this one. When he sells the house, I knew he would either sell the dresser in an estate sale, or sell it with the house.  But one way or another, he wouldn’t be taking it with him, because he didn’t need it.

My issue was, the dark finish and style of the dresser, didn’t go with {O}’s room at all, or our home’s farmhouse style in general.  But, when it comes to sentimental matters, I am also the type, that doesn’t like things to change. I want everything to stay the same – which is why I take such comfort in going to my parent’s home, where my father is, and everything is just as my mother left it. My mother would be there too, if I had any say in that.

So the idea of refinishing this dresser, of my mother’s, was hard to think about.  Just the vision of it, just as it is, with every detail, brings back memories. It’s such a part of my history, and my parent’s.  But it was either take it and refinish it, or let the whole thing go to some stranger, who never even knew my mother.   I decided changing it was a easier to handle, than letting it go altogether.

I talked to Michael about it the next morning, and called my father that afternoon, to ask him about it.  I was tentative, to tell him about the refinishing part.  (Yikes!) He did pause for a second of silence, when I got to that part of my plan.  But I wasn’t sure in the moment, if it bothered him because it was my mother’s, or if he didn’t get why I would do that.  I guessed it was the latter, knowing him pretty well, and a couple of questions later, I found I was right.  I figured, even if he was OK with me refinishing it, he wouldn’t understand why I would bother.  (Because he wouldn’t even think of it….because it works as is!)   “Why would you do that?”  “Because Dad, it doesn’t go with her room.  At all.”  I could hear him trying to wrap his brain around it.  He’s just a simple guy, who is not at all about home decor, etc.  If it works, it’s good! If it’s comfortable, it doesn’t matter what it looks like.  But he was fine with whatever I wanted to do with the dresser.  And he insisted on bringing it down to us, even though Michael had every intention of going out to western MA to get it.

I knew he would insist on driving it down, and as soon as possible.  He always makes sure we understand, “Anything you guys ever need, just ask me.  I mean it.” He means it.  There is nothing he wouldn’t do for us.  The dresser arrived in the back of his van, which arrived in our driveway, that weekend.

It was a beautiful day, so we got right to sanding it down, before it even came into the house. I did need to take a deep breathe, and push my hesitancy away, before I let the sander hit the surface.  But after I took some ‘before’ photos!

I could see the dresser, all refinished just as I wanted it, in my head.  I went to Home Depot myself that week, and found what I was hoping I would, for the original hardware – which I definitely wanted to keep!  It was the design of the hardware, that that really marked the dresser as my mother’s, and part of my parent’s set.

The spray paint I chose, was brushed nickel.

The tone was so beautiful.

The dresser itself, was a whole lot of work.  A lot.  Sanding, painting, steel wooling, and the high & smell of denatured alcohol, that was stuck in my head.  It was a big piece to work on. So much to it. My hands took a beating.

But the labor of it all, was therapeutic in a way, too.  It was a process I needed to go through.  Accepting change, and looking it in the eye, whether it is easy, or welcome, or not.  Knowing inside, that the only thing that is ever guaranteed to never change, is the memories born in the minutes and years that pass by.

Time marches on.

The dresser came out absolutely beautiful, I think.  I totally love it, refinished.  It now goes so perfectly, with the rest of {O}’s bedroom.

But it’s funny to me that, as completely different as it looks now, I somehow still see my mother’s dresser.

Every time I see the hardware, I am back in my parent’s bedroom(s), or I actually hear in my head, the clinking sound it makes, when the drawer is closed and the handle is let go.  I heard it for 21 years, or something.

The dresser has new history now.

{O} now has her grandmother’s dresser, and she watched her parent’s refinish it with love, just for her.

I can’t tell you how many times, I used this big mirror myself, growing up in a house with 5 kids, and one bathroom.

I can even easily imagine the many things of my mother’s on the dresser top, that were there for so many years.

{O} is slowly covering it, with her own things, now.

She knows it’s her Meme’s dresser, and it makes her happy to have it in her room, and call it her own, now.

Things change.  It’s a part of life.

And yet some matters of the heart, inside, never do.

No matter what it looks like, on the outside.

Sometimes, letting go, is all we can do.

While we hold on to whatever we can, as best we can.

I’m so happy I thought of getting my mother’s dresser, before it was too late.

I miss her so very much,  and it was hers.

Nothing I do to it, can ever change that.

******

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