Monday, February 26, 2007
Last spring my grandmother died, which I blogged about here, and here, and as always happens when a generation ends, the impact of her being gone continues in little ways. I find myself thinking of her and the farm during worship or when I'm driving.
After she died and my family took on the task of cleaning out her apartment and later the farmhouse, my mother kept asking me what I want. I live states away and wasn't, for a variety of reasons, able to be with them when they boxed everything up and put it in my uncle's storage barn. I have a couple of her coats -- a fabulous red vintage rain coat, and a darling round-collared long camel-colored dress coat. And it's fun to proclaim when I wear them, "It was my Gran's." In addition to some pictures, I also took her pin cushion, still full of pins and needles, and an old clothes hanger -- which has her name on it -- her maiden name, so I figure it has to be more than 70-some years old. She was 96 when she died.
I told my mom that I couldn't think of anything specific -- there wasn't a piece of furniture or a really special painting that I associate with her. Instead, I said, I'd like a coffee cup or one of those bowls, I said. You know, the kinda ugly yellowy gold ones?
So it is that some of her cups have made it into our rotation. I don't save them for a special morning, but it's on a morning like this when I grab one out of the cupboard, fill it with hot coffee like she did on so many mornings, that I'm filled with longing and nostalgia, and a sense of memory.