A Granddaughter's Memory
We travel to Grandpa & Grandma’s house for Thanksgiving. The traditional dinner at my parent's house recently moved North to account for my grandpa’s broken heart. My grandmother passed unexpectedly two years ago.
We make Thanksgiving as joyful as we can amidst the gaping hole without her at the head of the table. Mom and Dad fix the turkey. Stir the gravy. I make her famous green bread. We used to sneak it pre-meal as kids. My aunt brings the best pies in apple, pumpkin, and chocolate. We add the new tradition of mixing in memories of Grandma as we rinse, chop, and blend.
Grandpa sent me home with pictures from their 50+ years of life together. He gives generously to ensure her story continues in each of our books.
One of my chapters? Grandma's three-opal stone ring. I wore it on my wedding day. I feel her touch as I slip the ring on my finger. It fits perfectly. Her assortment of misfit stud earrings is another chapter. Maybe she figured I could make a statement with them. Or she knew I'm a horrible keeper of jewelry and misplace mine often.
One of my grandmother's chapters? Her father was a talented jeweler in the Upper Peninsula. He made his daughter the finest jewelry throughout the decades. She didn't need a special occasion to wear his finely crafted baubles. Each finger shone with a gemstone. Each ear glittered with stackable diamonds. It was a regular Tuesday.
Her stories piled high on the stones with every passing year, and she shared some of them with me. Slowly her beloved jewels were given to her granddaughters. Her most prized dispersed between her most prized, I hope.
I didn't know Grandma's jewels held a hidden message until now: things aren't merely things when they symbolize a family you are proud of. She crafted it into our family with the same precision my great grandfather chiseled into his coveted pieces. A message honored as we gather 'round the holiday table each year.
Trinkets are not welcomed lightly into my collection anymore. The costume jewelry of youth has been replaced with meaningful pieces to reflect the mission of Grandma's hidden message, like this pair of earrings I added to her misfits. I like to believe it would make her proud.
This one chapter of my grandma's life inspired a tradition I hope to pass on to future granddaughters if I am so lucky to have them. I call it A Grandmother's Tradition.
I hope they will stumble upon the message my grandmother left for me:
It is not the materials we take but the materials we give. Also, the ordinary can transform with a touch of glitz and glamour.
