Saturday, November 17, 2012

Grandma's Brooch

Tears burned my eyes as I held Grandma’s brooch in the palm of my hand. I hadn’t seen the heirloom in years. Slivers of light reflected off the rhinestones and shot a rainbow of color in every direction.
Perfect.
I fastened it to my mother’s pink sweater. I wanted Mom to look her best, especially for this occasion. Women are always particular about their appearance, don’t you think?
As I stood in the church, people approached my mother and me. One by one, they commented on Mom’s angelic countenance. Then their eyes shifted to Grandma’s brooch.


“Oh, what a beautiful pin,” one said as she clasped her hands.
“Look how it sparkles,” said another. “Your mother looks absolutely beautiful.”
And she did.
A lump formed in my throat, and I nodded, knowing I had done my job.
When the men closed the lid of the coffin for the last time, the funeral director handed me a bag. “The thank-you notes, extra obituaries, and guest book are inside,” he said. “We placed your mother’s jewelry in a small envelope.”
“Thank you. I appreciate all you’ve done for our family.”
He patted my shoulder and walked away.
I stared at the sack. It struck me as odd. Years of love, laughter, and tears had come down to a moment as this—a bag full of “things”. It just didn’t seem right.
A few days later, I retrieved the small envelope. Mom’s rings, watch, and necklace lay tucked inside.
But Grandma’s brooch wasn’t there.
My pulse sped as I rifled through the remaining contents of the bag. Where did they put that?
I finally abandoned my search, picked up the phone, and called the funeral home. “Where’s the brooch my mother was wearing?” I drummed my fingers on the kitchen counter. “It belonged to my grandmother.”
The poor man actually stuttered, said he needed to talk with his associates, and asked if he could call me back.
When he finally did, he explained how they all saw the pin, but he thought one of the other men took it off. The other men thought he did. Then he humbly apologized.
I massaged my forehead. “It’s okay.”

My heart pinched as I forced the words out. But there are two human attributes I’ve always been a sucker for: honesty and humility. How could I be angry with him?
Speaking of honesty, I now realize I was clinging to something that reminded me of those who had drifted away. I didn’t want to let go.
No matter the heirloom, it really is just another material thing. And it’s about so much more than that.
The love my mother and grandmother gave me wasn't tied up in that pin. It’s in my heart. And I’ll carry it with me—forever.

Note: Today's post is part of the CW blog chain. The topic is "Heirloom". Please check out my sidebar, further down on the right, to see some great posts by other writers.
 

20 comments:

  1. I know it was a "thing," but it sounds so filled with meaning and association to two women who meant so much to you. I'm sorry for your loss and the loss of the brooch that was a reminder of your mom. What a precious gift she gave you, though, in giving you love in a way that you can treasure and remember even without a physical memento.

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    1. I'm not gonna lie, Heather. It really bothered me. But it also forced me to look at things in another light.

      Thanks so much for stopping!

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  2. Very touching memory - and conclusion. The memories are what we can carry on.

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    1. Amen to that, Bill. If not for the memories, I can only imagine what could have happened. :-)

      Thanks for coming by!

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  3. Very touching Deborah, this is my favorite by far this month. Thank you for sharing this story :-)

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    1. You made my day, Chris. Thank you. And thank you for sharing it with me. I appreciate it. :)

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  4. Very sweet post, Deborah. It's fitting that your mother will always wear her mother's heirloom. Imagine if you had lot it or it had been stolen. It probably will be a comfort knowing exactly where it is and that such a precious heirloom will now never leave your family.

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    1. You're absolutely right, Carol. I've thought of this many times. It is a comfort to know it's with Mom. Could have been a whole lot worse, especially if it would have ended up in the hands of strangers.

      As always, thanks for coming by.

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  5. My grandmother had similar pins to the one pictured in your post. I'm not sure where they ended. At least you know its in a safe place! This was a lovely post.

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    1. This wasn't the actual pin, just an istock photo. But it did remind me of other brooches I'd seen over the years.

      I'm glad you enjoyed. Thanks for visiting, Tracy.

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  6. It's curious you should choose to write about your grandmother's brooch, just four days before I talk about my grandfather's desk. While I could never hold it in one hand, it's just as beautiful to me as the stunning brooch.

    It'll be more about me than about science fiction, though I do speak of a recurring character in The Next Generation. Good job.

    ~ VT

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    1. You know what they say, Victor. Great minds think alike. :-)

      I'm looking forward to reading your post. Do I need tissues?

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  7. Replies
    1. You're such a good brother, Jack. Biiiiiiiig hug back at you!

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  8. So sweet and sad at the same time. I'm sorry for your loss.

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    1. Truly it was a beautiful pin but just a bunch of sparkles compared to the wonderful memories you have of two beautiful women!

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    2. KeriMae: Thanks so much! And thanks for stopping by.

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    3. Christine: I couldn't agree more. Thanks for visiting.

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  9. Hi Deb,
    This was a good article.
    Your thoughts on what's important in a family are right on.
    I remember these multicolored rhinestones, they're very pretty and can be difficult to find.

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    1. Thanks, Pat. I'm glad you enjoyed it. And thanks so much for stopping by.

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