Moving has been a good thing for me. It's kept me busy...so busy that most nights I'm asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. It's kept my mind preoccupied so I haven't been able to think about things I don't want to. And it's enabled me to make a fresh start and begin to make new memories. It's been good for me in many ways, and for that I'm thankful.
Yesterday I started unpacking some of the boxes that have been in storage for almost 3 years. There are several things I've come across that I've wondered why in the world I kept them, and there are other things that I'd forgotten about and am happy to have once again. This afternoon I came across a box labeled "Grandma's Stuff". At first I couldn't remember what was in it, but when I opened it I remembered packing it at my Mom's house when I went over to help her one day before the move. I remember the day well; my Mom and I sharing time together and talking and me packing her dishes and pictures and Grandma's little embroidered footstool, but I don't remember talking about Grandma's things I packed in the box. I think I just figured there would always be another time, so I just packed what Mom had laid out without going through it as I now wish I had.
There were some typical things in the box, a box of recipes, an old cookbook, a wood serving tray, a framed piece of embroidery, and some sweet little prayer books, but what I was the most surprised to find was an inner box full of personal treasures of my Grandmothers. They were obviously very special things that my Mom had taken the time to gather together in one place so she could always keep a little piece of her Mother close to her. In the box was my Grandmothers handheld mirror, tarnished from time, but when I looked in it, I saw my reflection and hers at the same time. There were framed photos of my Grandmother taken during special times in her life. And there were several of Grandma's scrapbooks, filled with her handwriting and memento's of her life. My Grandmother was a wild lady in her day; she showed Chow Chows and traveled all over the country with her dogs, and the scrapbooks held train stubs and Western Union telegrams from Canada and other parts of the world. She was so full of life and adventure. One of the books is titled "A Girl Graduates" where she documents her last year of school. I glanced through it but didn't have the strength to really read it yet, but I look forward to the time when I can curl up on the couch and get to know my Grandmother all over again.
As I held the book in my hands, I could hear my Grandmother's laughter and her voice speaking to my heart, and I was overwhelmed with the realization of time gone by and all the history that precedes where I am in my life right now. I thought about how my Mom must have felt when she lost her mother. She once told me that she wished she'd been more compassionate to her at the end, and I often hear those words played out in my head as I wonder if I could have been or should have been more compassionate myself. Was my mother trying to tell me something and prepare me for how hard it is to accept the reality that we all must pass on and it's hard to let go without thinking of ourselves during the process. So many things went through my head as I held that simple yet powerful book and so much of what I'd been able to put aside for so many days came flooding back to me. It's amazing how grief is like the tide, ebbing and flowing and then crashing all around you when you least expect it.
After I took this photo, I reflected on something else that came to light for me. I feel I've been caught in a struggle between trying to hang on to what is gone, trying to live in the moment, and trying to capture and preserve everything so that it won't be forgotten. I don't want to miss any moments, however small, and yet I wonder if sometime less is more. My Grandmother's life fit neatly into a box, and I will put my Mother and Father's things into a box for my children to open and discover one day. But will they ever look at all the pictures I take of them and read all the stories and notes I write to them and care about the things I think are important? I guess I'll never know, so in the meantime the only thing I know how to do is keep on seeking the balance between what to hang on to and what to let go of...
Yesterday I started unpacking some of the boxes that have been in storage for almost 3 years. There are several things I've come across that I've wondered why in the world I kept them, and there are other things that I'd forgotten about and am happy to have once again. This afternoon I came across a box labeled "Grandma's Stuff". At first I couldn't remember what was in it, but when I opened it I remembered packing it at my Mom's house when I went over to help her one day before the move. I remember the day well; my Mom and I sharing time together and talking and me packing her dishes and pictures and Grandma's little embroidered footstool, but I don't remember talking about Grandma's things I packed in the box. I think I just figured there would always be another time, so I just packed what Mom had laid out without going through it as I now wish I had.
There were some typical things in the box, a box of recipes, an old cookbook, a wood serving tray, a framed piece of embroidery, and some sweet little prayer books, but what I was the most surprised to find was an inner box full of personal treasures of my Grandmothers. They were obviously very special things that my Mom had taken the time to gather together in one place so she could always keep a little piece of her Mother close to her. In the box was my Grandmothers handheld mirror, tarnished from time, but when I looked in it, I saw my reflection and hers at the same time. There were framed photos of my Grandmother taken during special times in her life. And there were several of Grandma's scrapbooks, filled with her handwriting and memento's of her life. My Grandmother was a wild lady in her day; she showed Chow Chows and traveled all over the country with her dogs, and the scrapbooks held train stubs and Western Union telegrams from Canada and other parts of the world. She was so full of life and adventure. One of the books is titled "A Girl Graduates" where she documents her last year of school. I glanced through it but didn't have the strength to really read it yet, but I look forward to the time when I can curl up on the couch and get to know my Grandmother all over again.
As I held the book in my hands, I could hear my Grandmother's laughter and her voice speaking to my heart, and I was overwhelmed with the realization of time gone by and all the history that precedes where I am in my life right now. I thought about how my Mom must have felt when she lost her mother. She once told me that she wished she'd been more compassionate to her at the end, and I often hear those words played out in my head as I wonder if I could have been or should have been more compassionate myself. Was my mother trying to tell me something and prepare me for how hard it is to accept the reality that we all must pass on and it's hard to let go without thinking of ourselves during the process. So many things went through my head as I held that simple yet powerful book and so much of what I'd been able to put aside for so many days came flooding back to me. It's amazing how grief is like the tide, ebbing and flowing and then crashing all around you when you least expect it.
After I took this photo, I reflected on something else that came to light for me. I feel I've been caught in a struggle between trying to hang on to what is gone, trying to live in the moment, and trying to capture and preserve everything so that it won't be forgotten. I don't want to miss any moments, however small, and yet I wonder if sometime less is more. My Grandmother's life fit neatly into a box, and I will put my Mother and Father's things into a box for my children to open and discover one day. But will they ever look at all the pictures I take of them and read all the stories and notes I write to them and care about the things I think are important? I guess I'll never know, so in the meantime the only thing I know how to do is keep on seeking the balance between what to hang on to and what to let go of...
