I was talking to a friend today and the subject of family heirlooms came up. She was talking about how her mom and aunts were arguing, fighting and bad mouthing each other over things they thought should belong to each of them upon the eventual demise of their mother. That's right, they are fighting and the dear lady is still using all of those silver knives, lace doilies and sitting in that particular velvet chair!
My friend asked me what I would do if in that situation and I told her that I could not imagine.
So, let me go on record...Mike, Melinda...if you want it that badly, it's yours!
Anyway, it seems that what they are fighting about are family photos, the china and that red velvet chair.
I had a photo of my mom and dad at a high school dance that I loved and had on a shelf for many years. One day, my sister asked me to make a copy of it for her. I figured I had had the original long enough, made myself a copy and gave her the original. I still have the picture, it still makes me smile! So, if you are fighting over photos, invest in a high quality photo printer, make copies and share them...making sure to include names, dates, places, favorite memories and the photographer if known. Share the memories.
I have a little white china saucer hanging on the wall in my kitchen. It is about 6 1/2" round, shiny white with a green border. It doesn't match any other of the dishes, not the fine china, not the Christmas china, not the nice everyday china, not the everyday china, not the Fiesta ware, not the Dan Finnegan handpainted china...nothing.
So, why would I have this single china plate hanging on the wall? This is the saucer that sat under the coffee cup that my great-grandfather, known as Pap-paw Goodness Gracious, used every morning for his coffee. Pap-paw would spill over a little coffee into the saucer, add some milk and let me drink it. I don't know if I have this actual memory or have heard the story so many times that is is real to me. It doesn't matter, what matters is that he loved me and shared his coffee...I still love coffee, with a little milk, no sugar...any wonder why?! This plate is one of my treasures, of value to no one but me, a reminder to share what you know is good.
I have two corner china cabinets, one from my great-grandparent's house and one from my grandmother's house. I brought them with me to Virginia when I got married and they are treasures for the beautiful pieces of furniture that they are and also as they remind me of the dining rooms in their houses...meals shared with family.
My grandmother used to tell me that she wanted certain people to have certain things of hers. This china cabinet came to me and another piece that stood in her entry hall went to my sister. They were focal points in her home and in ours.
After I lived in my house for several years, I decided to paint the dining room. I carefully unloaded all of the china, crystal and silver out of the cabinets and gently moved them to the center of the room. I started painting and as I worked my way around the room, I ended up behind the china cabinet...and there, on the back, written in white chalk, in my grandmother's handwriting, was my name. I stopped in my tracks and gently traced around the letters, remembering her beautiful handwriting that I saw on many cards, letters to camp and recipe cards. I had never noticed this in the two moves and since it was up against the wall, the chalk marking had not been erased, a minor miracle in itself.
So, the cabinet still stands in my dining room, filled with treasures I love, my name in faded white chalk on the back, a reminder of family meals taken together over the years. And being intentional...if you have a specific wish...let it be known.
I hope my friend's mom and her sisters can get beyond the "things" and see past them to the memories that are brought about by a meal on that china, a look through that picture album, a quiet nap, nestled in that red velvet chair or a tiny sip of coffee presented in the simplest of vessels.
It is the memories that count, the feelings that matter and the comfort in knowing we are loved.
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