I recently noticed a huge, heavy box on a high shelf in my storage room. Because it wasn’t labeled, I had no idea what was in it. How it surprised me once I was at ground level to realize what was inside.
There were several hundred greeting cards. Some were from various birthdays and graduations I’ve had over the years. Many were sympathy cards that had arrived after my mother’s death. A leather bag that was embossed with “Important Documents” contained wills and insurance policies from my dad, who died in 1979. There were newspaper clippings, plane boarding passes, and travel memorabilia.
My parents’ childhood baptismal certificates were probably the oldest documents in the box. There was even a handmade scrapbook of a bachelorette party held in honor of my mother in 1949!
I had no idea that he had all these treasures or how they ended up together like this.
It didn’t take long for me to feel a bit overwhelmed with sympathy cards and letters written by those who had loved my mother. In fact, I quickly realized that it was emotionally better to see five or six a day. I noticed that many of the senders were unknown to me on a personal level and many of the others passed away as well. I decided to look for themes to memorize and physically keep only some of them. It was very encouraging to see that people repeatedly expressed their thoughts that mom was special because she made everyone else feel special. Great wisdom for all of us to ponder!
I went through all the unique treasurers that represented my father’s life: a flute from his barbershop singing days, the seniority list from his employment with the CPR, a baseball counter he used when he umpired at games. There was even a shin cast and some dollar bills printed for Canada’s 100th anniversary celebration in 1967. All of these things will be passed down, with stories to provide context for generations to come.
They sent me handwritten letters and cards, as well as journals written by Mom that documented the daily events and her constant love for life and me. The idea of being loved never gets old.
It took several weeks to review and order everything. I then found a smaller box and carefully repackaged what I wanted to keep. This time I used a felt marker on the outside of the box to identify the contents.
This adventure made me think about many things. Why were all these items saved in the first place? I really don’t believe in coincidences. Perhaps these were waiting for me to contemplate my story when the time was right. Second, I began to wonder who would treasure these items in the future because I am the last of our family of origin. My mom, dad, and sister are gone, and therefore I am the keeper of the stories and artifacts. Third, I was wondering what things I have could be passed on and valued by future generations.
This week think about the idea that you are a curator of history. What do you have to pass on and what can you create that will be treasured for decades to come? You may not realize it now, but even writing a few stories from your life could be gold nuggets for your descendants.