A Living, Breathing Heirloom
About a year ago, I had the sudden and startling realization that a treasured family heirloom, my great grandfather’s watch, had inadvertently been discarded. I won’t go into particulars about how this happened as that is not relevant to the story. Suffice it to say, it is no longer with us, but by now, one-hundred-fifty-seven years after his death, I doubt that his watch would still be ticking.
The pain of the loss of such a treasure was so great that I couldn’t bring myself to even think about it. I hadn’t even shared this information with my husband . . . until today.
Downsizing
I have many friends who are going about the business of downsizing. Call us crazy, but while those around us have gotten rid of things and moved into smaller dwellings, my husband and I have purchased a condo. Now that may sound like downsizing, but . . . this particular place, our home, happens to be the largest one we’ve ever owned.
As we pulled out of our garage today to run errands, I glanced around at all the things on the shelves lining three walls. I made the comment to my husband about the need to rid ourselves of stuff. He inquired about what I was speaking and all I could say was, you know—stuff.
Errands accomplished, we headed home and decided to stop in a lovely little park within our neighborhood for a quick walk and to snap a few photos. Let me insert here that if you haven’t taken up nature photography, I highly recommend it. And be sure to get a macro lens of some kind as you will not believe what the camera will capture that your eyes cannot see.
Relaxed from the walk and heading home, my mind wandered to a conversation I had with cousins last night about our ancestors. Back in 2003, I became the first person in our family to stand at the grave of my great-grandfather who died of measles in Camp Lee, Richmond, Virginia. As I approached his gravesite, number S333, my shoulders began to shake. By the time I stood at the side of the small marker, tears poured down my face.
I spoke to him, calling him by name—and oh, I so hope he could hear me as it would have been the first time anyone had ever called him Grandpa. He was only thirty-two when he died. He left behind a beloved wife and his little children. As I related this story to my cousins in the wee hours of the morning, I had tears pooling in my eyes once more. And yes, they are present yet again as I write this.
I told my husband about the lost heirloom. I had forgotten about it as surely as I had forgotten that my mother told me about her Grandfather Andrew, when I was but a girl. We inadvertently gifted one of our children with this as his middle name. Another of those God-incidences about which I’ve previously written.
As I told this story to my husband, I had to stop and think about this thing—this heirloom. Was it really that important? Would it have been treasured? Indeed. But I have a far greater treasure. My sons have a far greater treasure, my grandchildren, and their children, and their children’s children have, and will have, a far greater treasure. We have the blood of Grandpa Andrew and his father Andrew, and his father Andrew, and his father William, and his father going back and back in time so many generations that it is impossible to know all the names. And this heirloom keeps ticking away inside each of us, their descendants.
This is just one branch of our family tree, my Mama’s side. My Daddy’s side and my husband’s family have just as many good, good people who make our boys who they are today. Each is a living, breathing monument, to all the generations of grandfathers and grandmothers that came before them.
As you downsize and purge, if you should happen to give away a family treasure, I hope you think about being the best of all parts of your family. Don’t lament the lost thing, for you have their DNA, their very blood flowing within you. With every beat, tick-tock of your heart, with every breath you take, you honor each of them—your ancestors.
Have you ever lost a treasured family heirloom? Share that experience with us.
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Hi, I’m Debra
Jesus Follower, wife, BoyMom, DD, author, blogger, musician, southern cook, amateur genealogist, amateur artist, living life with an accent on Southern.
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Tried to correct typos! Lol — I love reading this soooo much, as well as the comments that follow. Indeed, treasures! I'm very sentimental. Family photos are amongst my greatest treasures. My kids don't really understand that, what with their smart phones snapping all the time. I have told them that one day they will be old, and their children may ask about ancestors, and I may be gone, and I sure hope those young folks treasure the family photos I insisted on taking! I too have been talking about purging in our home. I was thinking about folks who lost so much when the hurricane or tornadoes came through. Family treasures that can't be replaced gone with the wind. I look around my home and wonder "what can I truly live without?" I have my grandmother's pitcher and bowl she had beside her bedside and washed out of many days; and I have her rolling pin she used in her kitchen for years and years. They are precious to me. My family lost a lot of treasures during a cross country move when the uhaul trailer was stolen off the back of our motor home during the night. Photos of my brother and I as littles, my mother's collection of her growing up memories. It certain brings tears to my eyes remembering. And I am so thankful for my heritage, my godly ancestors and the message they delivered. I'm so thankful for the DNA and the knowledge that one day I will see them in Heaven, rather than getting to know them through old photos and headstones. That's exciting! Thanks for sharing this beautiful blog and giving me something to think about, remember, and cherish!
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Oh, my dear friend, what a beautiful reminder of what's important. I have many from my parents, but one that was lost was actually taken by a caretaker in their home. It was a beautiful pitcher in the shape and magnificent colors of a purple pansy. My mother treasured it and I did too. It wasn't until she died and I was taking a few things home, I realized it was gone. I was bitter about that for years. Finally, I realized what was a treasure had become a problem and gave it to God. I still had mama's memory and know I'll see her again one day.