One of the first posts I remember writing for this blog was about a doll that my husband found and brought home for me to repair. I’d like to share it with you again today.
As some of you may be aware my husband David, usually referred to as “Hubby” on this blog, had been ill in hospital for several months. On Wednesday 21 October his condition suddenly worsened and he passed away. It was totally unexpected as although I realised that he would probably not enjoy good health in the future I did think that there was a good chance that we could get him home eventually.
David did not know a lot about dolls but he knew that I liked them so he sometimes bought me doll related gifts. He bought me a beautiful doll for Christmas one year and my Barbie sized dollshouse was also a gift from him.
He used to say that all the eyes in the doll room made him feel uncomfortable but nevertheless he would sometimes take visitors in there to see them if they called when I wasn’t at home.
He also put up the shelving in the doll room when we moved to Tasmania. The shelves had been used for bookshelves at our old house and he cut them down to fit the new room and bought a couple of extra pieces of timber so we’d have enough. I think we ran the local hardware shop out of brackets. Without those shelves I could not display my dolls and I know I’ll think of him whenever I walk into that room.
David was 60 years old and today, 30 October, would have been our 38th anniversary.
Here is the post that I wrote:
Little Lost Doll
My husband is generally very supportive of my doll collecting. He’s also a big softy. I’d like to tell you a story about something that he did several years ago. At that time David used to go to computer classes at a TAFE college a couple of days a week.
I had been doll collecting for a couple of years and would often bring dolls home from weekend markets or op shops.
On this particular day David noticed a rag doll lying on the floor in the lift. As the college had community facilities he assumed that a child had dropped it. Some hours later he got into the lift again and saw that the doll was still there and had obviously been abandoned. Its cloth body was torn, the stuffing was coming out and it was filthy dirty.
David picked up the doll and brought it home to me. He couldn’t just leave it there he said. Could I fix it?
I pulled out the rest of the stuffing and washed it before I did anything else. I repaired her torn body and restuffed her. Although her head is a bit floppy she certainly looks a lot better when she arrived.
She is still with us and every now and again David will ask me where “his” doll is