Pretty things

Grieving.....and pretty things.

I was sitting at my dining room table this morning and just looking around the room.  I have acquired many things which originated from my mom as a gift or an inheritance.  I prefer the things that she gave me as a gift because I was able to express my appreciation to her.  And the things I have inherited are cherished remembrances but associated with my loss of a mom. 

For many years, my mom collected various objects of value.  Pitchers, Lenox, dolls, collector plates, figurines,  Belleck, pewter, copper, crystal, crocks, Hummels, Precious Moments, milk glass, antique dishes, spoons, ...... that is just what pops into my head without straining my brain too much.  Sometimes she bought three of something.  One for herself, one for my sister and one for me.  Her choices were very tasteful and her collections brought her great satisfaction.

Mom used to say, "Girls, if anything happens to me,  you'll have lots of pretty things."  (Funny she phrased it as 'if anything' happens instead of 'when something' happens. ) But anyway, at times that offended us.  After all,  our own homes were already decorated with things we like and chose.  Weren't our choices good enough?  Add to that the things she had already gifted us with that she thought we should collect.  Where in the world would we put all her pretty things?  It troubled us for years, knowing that someday we would have to deal with all of it.

We understood that it was very important to Mom to leave this legacy for us.  All her pretty things.  Perhaps because she came from  a poor family of seven children and never had much to call her own.  Or maybe her self esteem was interwoven with the pretty things she collected and filled her surroundings.  Mom would even proudly proclaim to people that she was a collector.  Oh  my!  Was she ever!  She surely had an extra portion of everything you can imagine. 

Mom even had a complete inventory of all her earthly possessions for the last twenty years.  Each index card had the item description, when it was bought and purchase prize.  Or if it was a gift and from whom.  Sometimes a little note, like "I love it!"  "My favorite" What a challenge to match the inventory card with the item, find the original box and paperwork for each collectible.  I became quite proficient at playing the matchy- match game for the last two years.

So this brings me to where I am today.....now surrounded by many of Mom's pretty things.  Yes, after Mom died, my perspective changed.  I found out she was right after all.  So did my sister.   She knew we would want her pretty things.  It became important to hold on to special things to keep the memories close.  I willingly weeded out my own things to make room for Mom's pretty things.  I never imagined I would want to keep the beautiful Lenox china we had tried to talk her out of buying.  Especially because I have my own china that I love so much.  Nor would I think I would end up with a collection of her best crystal, because I am not a big connoisseur of crystal.  And why would a Toby mug suddenly be so appealing?

 So now these are a few of my favorite things........The Yield House corner cabinet with drop leaf table  displaying Mom's Belleck.  The platform oak rocker sitting beside my grandpa's antique barrister bookcase with two shelves of memorabilia from my Dad's side.  The maple desk with brass handled drawers that when opened make a noise that propels me back to my living at home years.  A wicker desk from their first apartment that now graces our guest room.  Mom's childhood tea set that I played with as a young girl.  The green and brown spatterware crock pitcher that was my grandma's and passed down to my mom.  The Little Women figurines, the afghans my grandma made, the Hummel collection display, my dad's pewter airplane display, knickknacks here and there...even two of her violet plants in a country basket transported from their Florida log home. 

Unexpectedly, these pretty things give me comfort, coziness, and connection with the parents I miss.

Funerals

This week I know of four people who died.  A friendly neighbor who was loved by his family and community.  An individual who started out life under 2 lbs and lived and loved 87 years.  A father who missed out on the blessings of his four children because he chose alcohol over the really good life.  And a favorite aunt of my daughters friend.

We made a visit to the funeral home to pay our respects to the family.  It is a good thing to do.

I've never felt comfortable in a funeral home.  Never cared to look at the person in the casket.  What do you say to the remaining family members?  Always wondered why people stand around making small talk at a time like this.  Why does everyone act like things are normal?  Why do we go through these rituals?

But though out of my comfort zone, I go anyway.  I go to stand at the casket and look at the empty shell of someones beloved family member.  I look at the hands and resist the impulse to touch to see if the skin feels real.  I evaluate the mouth to see if it looks natural or unnatural.  I wonder why glasses are put on top of closed eye lids as if there will be an awakening from a nap.  And the hair, is it like the person usually wore it?  Then I move on down to the meet and greet line of grieving family.

To the family and friends, I murmur  'I am sorry' as I give a sincere hug.  My heart feels sad for their loss. 

Now I can leave.  The guest book was signed.  I've watched the memorial video celebrating a special life.  I've paid my respects.

 But it is different as I walk away.   Being in a funeral home has opened the fresh wound of my own bereavement for my mom and dad.  Once again, I am engulfed in a sea of grief.  It seems like just yesterday I was thrust into the foreign territory of writing an obituary, gathering pictures for the memorial video, picking out a casket, and planning a funeral service.  Mom first, then a year later Dad.


For as long as I can remember, I thought I could NEVER, EVER see either of my parents lying in the casket.  But strangely, it was a comfort to stand at their casket.  I knew neither one of them were suffering anymore.  It was good to look into an expressionless face and see no pain. Absent from the body but present with the Lord.   Special clothing was chosen for the last appearance.  Mom in her pretty teal blue 50th anniversary dress and her earrings.  Dad decked out in his beloved Captain's shirt and tie.    Their hair was fixed like they would have wanted it.  And I was comfortable to stroke their hair one more time.

I wonder if these memories will fade in time.

Hello Blog

Hello Blog,
Always wondered about writing a blog.  Isn't it so like the journal thing?  I like writing journals.  So today I decided to set this up on my own.  Not sure of how it works.  I am a 'when all else fails, read the directions' kinda a person.  So I am proceeding ahead and will learn as I go.  Pretty much how I have learned anything on the computer.
Picking a name was not as easy as it looks.  Notes by Nancy seems simple but then I couldn't match the url with it.....sigh.
Picking a color was easy.  I am all about pink.  My sister told me a few years ago to embrace the pink ribbon because being a breast cancer survivor is my claim to fame.  Or maybe she put it more like my greatest accomplishment.  Actually, surviving the cancer treatment was quite an accomplishment.  I am six years out.  And I embrace PINK!
Picking out things to write about shouldn't be too hard.  My head is full all the time of things I would like to download.  These last few years have been packed with major life biggies. 
So now it is time for the reader of this blog  to pick out something.....like maybe a comfy chair cuz I am a long winded writer who has been keeping it in for a very long time.