How To Find Me When I'm Gone

The confluence of two random, recent events has caused this post today. Last night, as I was chopping veggies for home made chicken pot-pie, I was thinking about how much we just spent to have some of my jewelry appraised for insurance purposes. Yikes. It really costs a lot to find out how much you should spend to have it covered by insurance. Which also costs a lot! A real Catch-22.

By now you know I was a crow in my last life...if it's sparkly and bright, I love it. My jewelry is more important when considering what to wear than my clothes. It's not just because I weigh more than I'd like and so don't like clothes much. I've always been all about the jewelry.

So, I'm very lucky that over time I've acquired some wonderful, beautiful pieces. I love them very much, and I've actually taken a great deal of time considering who I want to leave them to when I'm gone. Some token of my affection so that someone I love will remember me when I'm no longer here with them.

Then while I was musing, I happened to look down at my trusty cutting board which has been in my kitchen since 1979. The first Michael and I bought it with some wedding money shortly after we set up our first home. I really examined it closely; I've used it pretty much every day. And, it struck me, that I hope someone would want to have my old board to remember me by because I've put a lot of love into my meals and preparations. And if I had to consider the energy invested....

...My cutting board has more of me in it than my jewelry.

I started hoping that someone would want my wooden utensils too, just as I wanted my grandmother's wooden spoon and a few of her pasta bowls. When I serve food in them, it feels as if I am part of a continuous connecting thread of love and care. But, without someone who cares about them after I'm gone, those vessels become, simply, old bowls.

Would anyone know how special my very first Scottie figurine is and be able to identify it as the genesis of my beloved collection? Would someone want that little piece of wood I've had for my entire life? The one I used to tie a piece of twine to and drag about telling everyone it was my dog. Would it hold the same value as my ruby ring might?

If someone really wanted a piece of me to hold close after I was gone, one of my bracelets would be a fine gift. But really, you'd find more of me in my Grandfather's eye glasses. I'm not sure how I ended up with them, but I love that they sit where I can see them and remember him. How he'd give me the change from his pocket when he saw me. How he smiled. How he wore a carnation on his lapel on the nights he was in our family restaurant. How the family nick named him "Scrappy," because he had an explosive, short-lived temper. What a character!

Most certainly I'd be found in my gorgeous diamond ring, the one that Michael surprised me with when he asked me to marry him. But if you look closely for remembering me as a little girl...

...you'd want my father's watch. Because when I need to feel my Dad, I put his watch on and wind it up and listen to it tick.

If you want to remember how I sounded when I wrote, you could always read the cards, letters or blogs...

...but if you want to feel me as I wrote, you'd want to have my favorite fountain pen...the one that I had made for me.

Yes, I can leave behind my jewelry and I will because it's such an important part of how people see me and will remember me with fondness. But, if you want to feel me after I'm gone, you'd have to look in more mundane places and objects. Places that would be easily overlooked as they sat in plain sight.

I am in all the small, seemingly unimportant things as you walk through my space. Like most people, if you want to know us and remember us, don't look for the grand things. Look to find us in the small defining details of life.

Namaste' Till Next Time,
Holly aka She Who Hopes To Be Remembered