It's the little things that make a legacy.
Sunday would have been my mother-in-law's 86th birthday. She died in March after a long illness.
When My Librarian and his siblings cleaned out the house, little was left. She'd taken the time to dispose of virtually everything of my father-in-law's after his death 5 years ago, and wasn't one to keep "stuff." So what she had was what she used.
These are my favorite types of inheritance. I have bowls that I use almost daily. I have towels, I have more coat hangers than we'll use in the rest of our lives. I have a teapot, silverware and a few knives. Everyday, I open my cupboards and see the memorabilia of various women in my life whose legacy lives in me.
The anniversary of my friend Grace's repose (Ortho-speak for death) is this week. I have her canning equipment, ready to can cherries this week. I have this great tool to open jars that she'd been given and thought it less than useful - I love it. I have sewing questions that I need to ask her, but I cannot.
My paternal grandmother's death was also in July. She was kinda not with it during her last decade or so... But I have her daily dishes in my cupboard. I wish I could ask her about some canning she did.
My maternal grandmother died in June a few years ago. I had her pressure cooker for a few years until the handle broke. It appears that Presto doesn't keep replacement handles in stock for 50 year old cookers. I miss that cooker, but I have her "best" flatware. There's this huge story about a shooting in her home when my mom was a baby that I never understood. Grandma told me the story with first names - people whose names I'd never heard. I should go back to South Bend and look up the details. In the meantime, my mother can't figure out her mother's cole slaw recipe either.
There are times that I doubt I'm a very good legacy. I used to be a better than competent seamstress, thanks to Grace and my grandmothers, but not so much anymore. My mother-in-law gave me her son, whom I usually take good care of, but who should have clean shirts before he gets up tomorrow to go to work. But maybe it's the little things that are a legacy, as much as the big. I can still sew a little. I can foods. I think about the stories I was told too late and with insufficient information to understand and could make the effort to find out more. I take care of their descendants. I follow their recipes (still working on that cole slaw.) I love them, even if they aren't here.
That's the think about Orthodoxy that I found the hardest to accept and now, one of the critical components in my faith. Love transcends death. They haven't stopped loving me, and I haven't stopped loving them. That's not a little thing, but it is a legacy.
Ok, freshly washed shirts into the closet, and my mother-in-law's bedspread, fresh from a day in the sunshine to bleach out the stains her eyes couldn't see, on my bed. Legacy, handed down, wrapped in white cotton.
May their memories be eternal.
When My Librarian and his siblings cleaned out the house, little was left. She'd taken the time to dispose of virtually everything of my father-in-law's after his death 5 years ago, and wasn't one to keep "stuff." So what she had was what she used.
These are my favorite types of inheritance. I have bowls that I use almost daily. I have towels, I have more coat hangers than we'll use in the rest of our lives. I have a teapot, silverware and a few knives. Everyday, I open my cupboards and see the memorabilia of various women in my life whose legacy lives in me.
The anniversary of my friend Grace's repose (Ortho-speak for death) is this week. I have her canning equipment, ready to can cherries this week. I have this great tool to open jars that she'd been given and thought it less than useful - I love it. I have sewing questions that I need to ask her, but I cannot.
My paternal grandmother's death was also in July. She was kinda not with it during her last decade or so... But I have her daily dishes in my cupboard. I wish I could ask her about some canning she did.
My maternal grandmother died in June a few years ago. I had her pressure cooker for a few years until the handle broke. It appears that Presto doesn't keep replacement handles in stock for 50 year old cookers. I miss that cooker, but I have her "best" flatware. There's this huge story about a shooting in her home when my mom was a baby that I never understood. Grandma told me the story with first names - people whose names I'd never heard. I should go back to South Bend and look up the details. In the meantime, my mother can't figure out her mother's cole slaw recipe either.
There are times that I doubt I'm a very good legacy. I used to be a better than competent seamstress, thanks to Grace and my grandmothers, but not so much anymore. My mother-in-law gave me her son, whom I usually take good care of, but who should have clean shirts before he gets up tomorrow to go to work. But maybe it's the little things that are a legacy, as much as the big. I can still sew a little. I can foods. I think about the stories I was told too late and with insufficient information to understand and could make the effort to find out more. I take care of their descendants. I follow their recipes (still working on that cole slaw.) I love them, even if they aren't here.
That's the think about Orthodoxy that I found the hardest to accept and now, one of the critical components in my faith. Love transcends death. They haven't stopped loving me, and I haven't stopped loving them. That's not a little thing, but it is a legacy.
Ok, freshly washed shirts into the closet, and my mother-in-law's bedspread, fresh from a day in the sunshine to bleach out the stains her eyes couldn't see, on my bed. Legacy, handed down, wrapped in white cotton.
May their memories be eternal.