Keeping Memories Alive

I am a memory keeper. I like to reminisce and tell the stories. Christmas-time stirs up a lot of emotions and memories. Some good, some sad, but I still think reminiscing is cathartic. Cathartic means to openly express strong emotions like joy, grief, excitement and sadness. But do we express or compress? Depends on the person for me. Some memories and keepsakes are joyful, front and center ... others are tucked away because I am afraid I will make someone cry. And then I cry. And that's not an emotion I typically share. (I know, I know, it's okay to cry.)

I call myself the memory keeper because what I have found as I have gotten older is, when people pass away many of their "things" come to live at our house. Some keepsakes are small, some are large. Others are in boxes which have not been opened in decades. If you have ever cleaned out a loved ones house or moved to a smaller home after being at the same one for 40 years, you know what I mean. These "things" hold memories and stories, some of which we will never know. But your family member kept them, so they must be special, right?

Recently we found a hand-painted antique bottle in a box at my inlaw's former home. The bottom had my husband's Grandma's name and the year 1934 written on it. Inside was a crumbling school carnival ticket. There is no living family member who knows the story, but Grandma kept it, then my mother-in-law kept it and now we are keeping it.  In May 1934, Grandma at age 12 went to a school carnival in Oklahoma and painted this cool bottle. That's the story we have and we love it.

My husband has his Pop's humidor and pipes. He has never smoked one, but they are special. We went to a tobacco shop and bought cherry flavored tobacco after his grandpa passed away, because the smell brought back memories. It's all there on the bookcase. Can we take it with us from this life? No. But we can look at it and remember Pop with his pipe and even smell it.

I have an African Violet that was in my maternal Grandmother's living room. She's been gone a year now and it is still full of life. I can see it's velvet leaves and purple petals sitting in her front window, while she watched the swarm of hummingbirds at her feeders from her chair.

Notebooks of genealogy fill my book shelf trying to keep all the stories alive for the next generation. For me, memories are like a worn out chair you just don't want to get rid of because it's comfortable and familiar.

One of my favorite keepsakes I have at our home is the kitchen table from my Grandma's house. I was reluctant when my dad offered it to me. I had a table in my kitchen which held many wonderful memories, plus, I was convinced it wouldn't fit. It wasn't that I didn't love her table. I also was not sure I wanted the responsibility of keeping this memory alive.

I was wrong. And it fit. I am deeply grateful to my dad for offering it me.

The kitchen table is the centerpiece of all our gatherings. We put the leaves in and use it for a buffet for larger occasions, we sit around it and solve the problems of the world, it is a catch-all for mail, keys, and school work.  But it's the worn edges that make me smile. The areas on each of the four sides which along the edges are a lighter color than the original honey oak. Where elbows rested. Where the work was done.

My Grandpa, Grandma and Uncle are no longer with us, but they are a part of this table that sat in Grandma's kitchen for years. I have so many fond childhood memories at the table. Birthday cakes, pizza parties, card games, family dinners, worrying who got the chair with the loose wheel. Now, we are making plenty of new memories at Grandma's table.

I am sharing all of this with you this Christmas season hoping to spark a moment where you invite a loved one to remisnisce, tell a story or express some emotion over a keepsake. That way when they are gone, you will know their story and carry it forward.

Your Friend

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