We are all writing our own stories. The stories of our life. The truth is, one day, we will all pass away. Heavy, I know. I’m sure I’ve lost a lot of readers already. But, if you are still reading, please keep going, because I’m sure this will make you think~ What will people say about me when I’m gone?
This past Sunday I spent the morning with my dad, sister, aunt, uncle, and two cousins at my Grandma and Grandpa Fish’s house. Grandma died in November, so my aunt and dad are in the cleaning out phase. They asked us to gather together to sort and pick out any items that we’d like to keep. When we arrived at the house we found my aunt sorting through all of my grandma’s jewelry. She was matching earrings, laying out bracelets and necklaces all along a bed. We admired the pieces recalling items that we remembered or remembered her wearing. There were dishes to look though, furniture, old pictures and albums, table clothes, crocheted doilies that we had fun trying to guess what you did with them, and the list keeps going. We took turns picking items that we wanted to keep. Going through the house and still smelling like grandma and grandpa’s house really brought back a lot of memories. For me, the emotions didn’t really hit until I got home and started washing the glass pieces that I brought back with me. Everything that I was touching had history. Where did it come from? Were some of the items passed down from past generations? It made me think about my grandparents legacy and how proud I am of where I come from. It also made me think about my story and the legacy I want to leave. I put away the beautiful glass pieces in my china cabinet, washed up the doilies and took the jewelry to my room. I picked out a doily that fit on my dresser underneath my jewelry tray. I started to go through the jewelry from my grandma’s, matching the earrings again and trying on the rings. That’s when the tears started. I missed them. I wish I could go back and tell them so much. My grandma, no matter what, even a couple days before she passed, had a smile on her face when I walked in her room. Her generosity and beauty is her legacy. My grandparent’s legacy is a good one. The stories I hear from my dad and aunt are good. I learned this weekend how much my dad loved his mom. She spoiled her grand kids, but I think she spoiled my dad just as much. Not only with “things,” but real love.
This journey called life is nothing like I planned or envisioned for myself. Ironically enough, I think it’s become better than I could have ever expected. I say “ironically” because how can I think that when my baby has a terminal disorder? Well, it’s because I’ve found through this tragedy who I am, what I believe in, and what I’m capable of. I’ve learned how important it is to write a story that is positive and inspiring. I want to leave a legacy for myself, my children, and my future generations that is going to spark something in them.
I wanted to share a few pictures of the items that I took from my grandparents home. I’m getting some furniture and a set of china that are not in these pictures. It’s hard to say which item I will treasure the most. They all have a great story, but I want to share one with you. My dad hasn’t kept a lot from the house. Only the items that really have meaning to him. He told my aunt that he really hoped we would pick this one thing. He wanted us to have these glass banana split dishes. He loved them so much and had great memories of them. My sister and I split them and can’t wait to make our own memories with them. My dad is bringing me the furniture in a few weeks and we will be having banana splits when he visits!