Inheritance
A couple years ago, when my grandmother was in the hospital from her cancer, she told my sisters and myself to go through her china and divide it up. She had three sets, so it would have been a simple matter for us to pick out which pattern we each liked.
I couldn't do it. She was still there, still very much alive and kicking. I think it was a good year between that episode and her passing. It felt wrong to take her things.
I wish now that I had asked her for what I really wanted. She had a collection of different types of owls, and all I really wanted was an owl.
With the whole fiasco after her death, I ended up not getting anything at all. Granted, I wasn't very close to her, but it would have been nice to have something to remember her by. Instead, it all got auctioned off to strangers.
I was thinking about this today because I inherited a bunch of books. The family of the faculty member (my cousin) who passed away before Thanksgiving brought all his books in. They said that the faculty and grad students could look them over and take whatever they want.
A couple people said they felt funny about it. I didn't at all. I was glad to have something to remember him, even better that it's useful. I think he would have handed them out himself, had he been up to it before he passed. (Unlike my grandmother, he refused to let anything keep him down. He worked until about two weeks before his passing.)
I'm very excited because I got some really cool books. But what's even cooler is that I love books, and these are books I can use for my work. Every time I pick one of these books up, I will look in the front cover and see that this book belonged to Floyd. (He was meticulous about writing his name in them.) It's a wonderful way to remember someone. And because he was a teacher, my gut says he would have been happy to pass on his collected knowledge to people who really appreciate it.
So Floyd, if you're out there, I wanted to say thank you.
I couldn't do it. She was still there, still very much alive and kicking. I think it was a good year between that episode and her passing. It felt wrong to take her things.
I wish now that I had asked her for what I really wanted. She had a collection of different types of owls, and all I really wanted was an owl.
With the whole fiasco after her death, I ended up not getting anything at all. Granted, I wasn't very close to her, but it would have been nice to have something to remember her by. Instead, it all got auctioned off to strangers.
I was thinking about this today because I inherited a bunch of books. The family of the faculty member (my cousin) who passed away before Thanksgiving brought all his books in. They said that the faculty and grad students could look them over and take whatever they want.
A couple people said they felt funny about it. I didn't at all. I was glad to have something to remember him, even better that it's useful. I think he would have handed them out himself, had he been up to it before he passed. (Unlike my grandmother, he refused to let anything keep him down. He worked until about two weeks before his passing.)
I'm very excited because I got some really cool books. But what's even cooler is that I love books, and these are books I can use for my work. Every time I pick one of these books up, I will look in the front cover and see that this book belonged to Floyd. (He was meticulous about writing his name in them.) It's a wonderful way to remember someone. And because he was a teacher, my gut says he would have been happy to pass on his collected knowledge to people who really appreciate it.
So Floyd, if you're out there, I wanted to say thank you.