Sometimes I wonder what will become of my things after I’m gone. Not that I have anything of value, but they are valuable to me. Will my milk glass collection end up donated and dusty on the shelves of some thrift store? Will my children each keep a piece as a memento? Will my husband be glad to finally rid our home of it?
Will my family sit around in a circle sifting through my memory box telling “mom stories” as they come across every birthday, Mother’s Day, and Christmas card they’ve ever made me? Will they find the love notes they tucked in my purse years ago that I’ve saved all this time? Will all of it be tossed in the trash bin or perhaps framed and hung on the wall?
Will they sort through my boxes of jewelry, too cheap to even be considered “costume” and disregard the tiny Mason lapel pin I have, not knowing it belonged to my father? Will they wonder why I store a gold compact from the 1950’s in my nightstand without ever knowing it belonged to their great-grandmother? While looking through old photographs, will the ones with unfamiliar faces be thrown away, not knowing that was their Great Aunt Loree and that she was, in fact, pretty great?
Will my clothes be picked through and the rest donated to a womans shelter? Will my favorite dress become a stranger’s favorite dress? Will she feel as good in it as I did? Will my friends step forward and ask for a little piece of me for old times sake?
My bathrobe that hangs on a hook by the shower door, the one I’ve had since the weekend we moved to New Braunfels – will my husband leave it there to hang as a reminder of me? The basket of hair flowers stored next to my cosmetics, I must have 25 of them in all colors and sizes; will they be placed in Olive’s hair? I once overheard Jose tell someone that my flower was one of the reasons he was drawn to me. It was my signature look. I made sure to wear one for every special occasion after hearing that. Will he see the basket of hair flowers and know I wore them for him?
Will the pictures I hung so carefully on the wall, perfectly spaced and leveled be rearranged? Will the photos of me be replaced by photos of my husband’s new wife? Will the bed continue to be made every morning just the way I like it with the top sheet inside out so that when it’s folded over the comforter it is right side out?
…and then there’s the Yellow Chair. I stumbled upon it at the Flea Market (naturally) and insisted we buy it. I don’t remember the asking price, but Jose managed to haggle it down to $15. Will the Yellow Chair photos continue on without me? Will it be the one piece of furniture Olive takes with her when she leaves home for college? Will it one day be sold at a yard sale becoming nothing more than a memory as I have?
I know you can’t take things with you when you’re gone. I would never expect my family to be burdened with all my junk, but what I do hope, as they go through all that I’ve treasured in my life, they will see that these things are reflections of them and that’s what makes it priceless.