My dad called me a while ago and asked if I wanted some of my Grandfathers things. His military hat, a couple guns. I have his flag upstairs, and the Bible that was given at his funeral, the rocking chair that he rocked me in (that I rocked Doodlebug in and still rock Babyum in). Grandpa and I had something special I guess. He was just always the one I connected with, I have so many wonderful memories of him. Just an amazing man. Somehow he even managed to get my grandmother her red roses for their 50th anniversary, even after he had passed. She went to the cemetery that day and there were roses there. He had promised them to her and there they were waiting for her. Sure, maybe someone in the family had overheard his promise and had taken them, but no one is admitting to it, and who doesn't want to believe in magic?
I came home to look at his things. So neat, his hat with his name and number inside, the guns, his initials carved in the holster. Just the thought of him being overseas, thinking of what he might have been doing and thinking then, did he ever imagine his granddaughter would be holding those things? I held his gun and it is worn in places from being held, but (how strange is this?) it seems like it's worn in just the right spots to fit in my hand, too. It just felt right to me if that makes sense. Maybe I'm just being too sentimental here, I don't know.
It is so important to me that my kids have memories, so this is my "make things count" reminder. More pictures, more family time, a bigger keepsake box and a written note on whatever goes in that box, so they know the story behind it and can treasure it for what it was.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Here they are! And thank you to Shutterfly
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)