Ethne wrote about her feelings, sometimes a very difficult challenge, as she remembered her grandmother through various items, each with a specific memory full of amplified emotions. (link via title bar)
A long time ago in a galaxy far far away... there lived a very young boy unaware of how things worked. He’d never contemplated the thought that grandparents would not always be there for him to visit, the concept of death had never been explained to him. A conversation developed in which the topic of death must have come up; leaving all the trappings of mortality behind since trinkets would be of no use on the other side.
I remember, as if it were a blink, even though it was over fifty years ago, pointing to a decorative plate that was one of the few items prominently displayed in Granny’s apartment. I considered it to be the most beautiful single item that could ever be, my limited exposure to a world full of tangible items, soft blue detail of an old mansion against a pure white background resting on her maple hutch.
“When you die can I have your plate?” I couldn’t have been 5 or 6 years old and yet I knew that I’d spoken out of turn, all the same I wanted to put my bid in before anyone else. Granny looked at me with the most amazing glance, holding back a belly laugh for such a preposterous request as she gave me a hug and promised the plate would always be mine. Granny saw past what some might have considered “seeking after riches” and replaced that improbable thought with my desire to have a piece of her, a memory of her essence to have about me regardless of time.
Granny lived a long life, having had the opportunity to meet all of my children as they came along. I had a special relationship with that lady right up until the end of her life. I would fly out for a weekend, lunch and dinner, then fly back in time to be at work; something which she thought to be an extravagance.
She marveled at the technological advances she’d witnessed; scolding me when I’d call her on my cell phone while driving down the road. I’d always pretend that I was so engrossed with our telephone conversation that I might be on the wrong side of the double yellow stripe; honking at an imaginary oncoming vehicle for effect. Granny had an exclamation mark that was part of her laugh, as if she had been entertained by a con artist at the Midway Carnival and enjoyed every minute, that kind of “Oh, my gaud, please be more careful” while at the same time, enjoying the idea that I’d spent some time with “an old lady like me”. I don’t think Granny ever fully understood how great it was just to be with her, either in person or through the magic of telecommunication.
I picked up Granny’s old blue plate after reading Ethne’s heart warming remembrance, I’ve had it these many years. It’s a piece of Wedgwood with an explanation on the back; something about the DAR and the name of the building from back in 1820. There’s not a word that would indicate how important having a piece of Granny is to me. A pleasant thought went past my mind as I held that piece of china, enough to cause a few tears to form and escape the corners and trickle down my cheeks. I suppose it would have been valuable to me if it had been a plastic soda cup from the Astrodome, had it been a part of Granny’s life and something which we both enjoyed together.
A long time ago in a galaxy far far away... there lived a very young boy unaware of how things worked. He’d never contemplated the thought that grandparents would not always be there for him to visit, the concept of death had never been explained to him. A conversation developed in which the topic of death must have come up; leaving all the trappings of mortality behind since trinkets would be of no use on the other side.
I remember, as if it were a blink, even though it was over fifty years ago, pointing to a decorative plate that was one of the few items prominently displayed in Granny’s apartment. I considered it to be the most beautiful single item that could ever be, my limited exposure to a world full of tangible items, soft blue detail of an old mansion against a pure white background resting on her maple hutch.
“When you die can I have your plate?” I couldn’t have been 5 or 6 years old and yet I knew that I’d spoken out of turn, all the same I wanted to put my bid in before anyone else. Granny looked at me with the most amazing glance, holding back a belly laugh for such a preposterous request as she gave me a hug and promised the plate would always be mine. Granny saw past what some might have considered “seeking after riches” and replaced that improbable thought with my desire to have a piece of her, a memory of her essence to have about me regardless of time.
Granny lived a long life, having had the opportunity to meet all of my children as they came along. I had a special relationship with that lady right up until the end of her life. I would fly out for a weekend, lunch and dinner, then fly back in time to be at work; something which she thought to be an extravagance.
She marveled at the technological advances she’d witnessed; scolding me when I’d call her on my cell phone while driving down the road. I’d always pretend that I was so engrossed with our telephone conversation that I might be on the wrong side of the double yellow stripe; honking at an imaginary oncoming vehicle for effect. Granny had an exclamation mark that was part of her laugh, as if she had been entertained by a con artist at the Midway Carnival and enjoyed every minute, that kind of “Oh, my gaud, please be more careful” while at the same time, enjoying the idea that I’d spent some time with “an old lady like me”. I don’t think Granny ever fully understood how great it was just to be with her, either in person or through the magic of telecommunication.
I picked up Granny’s old blue plate after reading Ethne’s heart warming remembrance, I’ve had it these many years. It’s a piece of Wedgwood with an explanation on the back; something about the DAR and the name of the building from back in 1820. There’s not a word that would indicate how important having a piece of Granny is to me. A pleasant thought went past my mind as I held that piece of china, enough to cause a few tears to form and escape the corners and trickle down my cheeks. I suppose it would have been valuable to me if it had been a plastic soda cup from the Astrodome, had it been a part of Granny’s life and something which we both enjoyed together.
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