Mom has been gone for three years and Dad left us in April. We
sisters finally got together to sort through their household belongings. Yes,
there were garbage bags lined up outside and plenty of boxes for the thrift
store, but the special items would find new homes with us seven kids. We
know how the ranch assets were distributed, now to tackle the other treasures
from a lifetime.
Neither of our folks were into collecting stuff. Dad’s life was
the ranch and he had few other belongings. But there were his worn saddle,
batwing chaps and silver bit. Mom was an artist, writer and homemaker
extraordinaire. Who would take the quilts and paintings? And what about the ceramics
created with mountain clay by our grandma’s hands?
In the end we divided up the “medium good” from the “extra
special,” drew for order of choosing, and then took turns. Donna got the coveted “grandma putty
jar” with the arrow heads and old coins. Janene took the little old man and
woman busts that grandma made. Our ranching brother fittingly has the bit, and
Kit the antique Navajo rug. Many of the items have no monetary value, but have
inestimable worth to each of us.
We sat there in Mom and Dad’s living room that night,
laughing and celebrating. Wondering how each of us would show off the items we
took from that cherished space, all the while knowing the greatest gifts from
Mom and Dad are those we carry around with us every day.
Our folks’ selflessness and their love for each other. A love of the land and family. Mom’s creativity, Dad’s work ethic. All of these are firmly ensconced, albeit imperfectly, in our characters. These heirlooms don’t need dusted or insured, mounted or displayed. They’re the ultimate hand-me-down that can’t be broke or stolen. And there’s enough to go around to all the grandkids in starter homes, dorm rooms and city apartments from Idaho Falls, to Houston, to New York City. A rich inheritance indeed.
Our folks’ selflessness and their love for each other. A love of the land and family. Mom’s creativity, Dad’s work ethic. All of these are firmly ensconced, albeit imperfectly, in our characters. These heirlooms don’t need dusted or insured, mounted or displayed. They’re the ultimate hand-me-down that can’t be broke or stolen. And there’s enough to go around to all the grandkids in starter homes, dorm rooms and city apartments from Idaho Falls, to Houston, to New York City. A rich inheritance indeed.
picking paintings for the grandkids |
after the sort we're still best friends Sister Retreat 2013 |
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