Honoring the Memory

For most people who know me it comes as no surprise that I love all things old, antique, and storied. This little casita holds in use quite a few pieces from our parents' past and even a couple from our grandparents'.

It isn't simply that these pieces are well made or that they are even particularly valuable in a strictly monetary sense. It's that their intrinsic value is in the eye of the beholder and in the warmth of their memory for the one who holds them dear.

An old cedar trunk that belonged to Tom's grandmother; the piano my parents scrimped and saved to buy for me one Christmas; the antique headboards that were a fixture in the big, brick house of my in-laws. These are things both beautiful and useful, but their worth is really tied to sentiment.

Sometimes it's difficult for me to separate the "thing" from the memory. I don't know if that even makes sense. I mean, I will always have the memory therefore I don't need to hold onto the "thing" as something too precious to let go.

I struggle in this department.

I cried when we sold our old house; blubbered like a baby! I literally hugged the walls, and as I stood there in the doorway to leave for the last time, replayed all the sweet memories of my children growing up in that place. Letting go is hard when the memories run deep.

I suppose for me, and believe me, I understand just how crazy and irrational this sounds... it almost seems disrespectful to toss something that once held such joy for a person we dearly loved. Since we now live in a little 900 sq. foot cottage, however, it is totally unrealistic to think that we can hold onto everything.

So.... what does one do in a situation like that?

Try to pass the stuff on to the kids, of course! Like somehow that isn't really getting rid of anything if someone from the family still owns it!! But that isn't fair to them now, is it?

No, I have to just put my big girl pants on and deal with what's really going on here.

There is much more to honoring the memory of someone we loved than keeping a bunch of their stuff. They're not to be found in the cameo broach, or in the walnut dresser. Their legacy isn't cemented in the antique headboards or in the old cedar trunk. Their memory... their legacy lives on inside us, and the way we honor them best is by trying diligently to live out the lessons they taught us about faith and family, about character and humility, about love and life.

There's no crime in wanting to hang onto some things that hold special memories for us, particularly when they bring us the same joy, but neither do we need to feel guilt over letting things go. The truest treasures always live on...

deep within the hearts of those they loved.