Welcome to Day 19 of #LoveBlog, with the topic Family Heirlooms. Don’t forget you can still join the blog link-up for yesterday’s topic, Boundaries, or Wednesday’s topic, Acts of Service. Find the entire list of #LoveBlog topics at the initial post.
Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve been fascinated by objects with a story behind them. I loved visiting museums and learning about historic artifacts, fossils, minerals, and more. It’s no surprise I ended up majoring in history!
My fascination extended to anything with a story, historical or not. Family photos, places I’d never visited, my parents’ art collection, and so much more caught my interest.
When I was a kid, my mom was a Creative Memories consultant. She put together beautiful scrapbooks memorializing our family’s history. Sometimes we would go through the scrapbooks together, and I would ask her about all the people and places I didn’t recognize.
I loved listening to my parents tell me about San Antonio, their whirlwind romance, and their small wedding at the Little Church of La Villitta. For so long I wanted to visit San Antonio and discover where my family truly began. Two years ago, I did, when Dan and I got married in the same church.
For years I asked my parents to tell me my favorite stories over and over again. How they met. How Daddy proposed. Their elopement. How Daddy surprised Mom with diamond and sapphire earrings. How Daddy told Mom our family was moving from California to South Carolina. (Have I shared that story yet? One day, my dear readers, one day).
Before my mom died, she and I went through some of her sentimental pieces and I wrote down the stories behind them. I know I’m not the only one who wanted more time with her. We would all give anything to have one more day with my mom. I regret so much that we didn’t finish looking at her sentimental jewelry. Now those stories are lost.
When my mom died, I essentially inherited most of her jewelry. She had left a few specific pieces for dear friends and family members, but otherwise my dad and I have attempted to figure out who to give what piece of jewelry.
At least my mom and I did talk a little about her jewelry together before she died. I remember one day when she called me into her room. At this point she was bedridden in an adjustable hospital bed downstairs; our family bedrooms are all upstairs. She told me to go to her bathroom and find three necklaces hanging together, strands of pink and gold. I found them and brought them to her.
Mom’s hands were unsteady, but as I held the necklaces in front of her, she indicated each one as she explained their significance.
The vintage pink and gold beads had belonged to my dad’s mother. When Grandmama died in 2009, all the women in the family picked out a few pieces of jewelry for ourselves. Mom had picked this necklace.
The vintage gold necklace had belonged to my other grandmother, who died in 2014. When Grandma Bertha first moved into an assisted living home, my mom and my aunt cleaned out her house and did their best to fairly divide up everything among themselves and us grandchildren. I think that’s when Mom received this necklace.
The tiny pink and white seed pearls had been a gift from my dad to my mom. They also have a matching bracelet.
My mom used to wear these three necklaces together. For her, the choice was honestly more for fashion than for posterity. Each necklace indivdually wasn’t really her style, but together, their flair was worthy of Grandma Bertha.
But for me, these necklaces represent three strong, intelligent, loving women. These necklaces are part of who I am and where I come from.
When my mom gave them to me, she told me never to forget the three women who once wore them. As she’s taught me during my entire life, she reminded me that there’s more than one way to be a strong woman.
My pink and gold necklaces, mostly costume pieces, aren’t as valuable as any of the diamond and sapphire jewelry I inherited. Their individual stories aren’t as funny or as romantic as the diamonds and sapphires my dad gave my mom over the years.
But to me, my trio of necklaces are just as special as the rest of my mother’s jewelry. I don’t wear them often, but I’ve hung them up next to my desk as a constant reminder of the three women I’ve always admired the most.
Necklaces or not, may I always be clothed in dignity and strength, as the women who came before me once were.
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Meet Brita Long: Christian feminist blissfully married to Dan Fleck for almost two years. Lover of Paris, pink sparkles, sensible shoes, manicures, and books. Fueled by hot tea and mimosas.
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Meet Alessia Cesana: Catholic bachelorette in the big city of London, navigating the world of dating and broken hearts like a Carrie Bradshaw in mantilla veil and ballet flats. Historian, professional geek, and charity co-founder in her spare time. Loves Jane Austen, Pumpkin Spice Lattes, her Ray-ban Wayfarers and Tim Stanley’s hair.
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You might have noticed the lack of pictures in this post… Yeah. Dan and I are in Miami this weekend. He’s actually here for work, and I tagged along because it’s Miami. I did not get photos taken for this blog post before leaving for the airport yesterday. I will update next week!
