Daily Newsie

Today I was thinking about whether I should have a will. I thought about my car, my computer, my television — the three most expensive things I own — and couldn’t imagine anyone fighting over my banged-up Saturn. My bank account more often than not has less than $100 in it, and the only thing anyone stands to inherit, really, is a whole lot of debt.

But then I thought about Bearby, who’s been my nearly-constant companion for 23 or so years. Legend has it he came from the Green Stamp Store, although I’m not really sure because his tag has long since faded, frayed and fallen off. When I was little he tagged along with me everywhere. I can still remember moments of great distress when we were separated, like when my aunt used him as a pillow or one of my many baby cousins chewed on his nose. Our longest separation was four months: I left him with an ex-boyfriend in the States while I spent my semester abroad in Germany, a generous gesture that was basically the stupidest decision I ever made. (I thought Bearby would like to see Korea, which is where the ex was headed that summer. The ex almost lost him, a thought that still, six years later, makes me sick to my stomach.)

This raggedy old brown bear has been all over Europe with his head and arms poking out of my bag so he could see the sights; he sat in my lap during my senior pictures; he’s traveled to New York City and beyond in my arms; and he once played the Baby Jesus in a homemade nativity play staged by my older brother and me. Ever since I was small, I’ve believed he was alive. Even now, I make sure he’s placed comfortably on a pillow when I leave for work, the comforter tucked to his chin if it’s cold outside. When I die, I don’t want him in my coffin with me — I want him somewhere bright, surrounded by love and happiness.

It may seem silly or stupid for a 26-year-old to carry around a stuffed bear (who received a thorough cleaning and re-stuffing from The Fiance’ last year), but I don’t care. I can’t sleep without him. He’s a bit of familiarity no matter where I am; he’s a friend who’s absorbed my tears and listened to my rants. I collected teddy bears for many years, but he was always my number one.

I don’t really know where I’m going with this entry except to say that thinking about my last will and testament got me thinking about my bear and all the things he’s seen with those unblinking brown eyes. Whomever gets him after I die better take good care of him, because I’m not opposed to pulling some sort of Poltergeist voodoo in the afterlife.