The following story is based on a true story shared with us by a member of the Arti Community. We’ve altered some details to protect their privacy. We hope their experience helps you feel less alone in the tough choices you make as times change, your way of life changes, and who you live that life with changes, too.
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When my father passed away, my mother was truly on her own. But she was not physically or mentally healthy enough to live on her own. My parents had been married for 63 years. Solitude and independence were foreign to her. I know that in many families the open question in this scenario is, “Who will take care of Mom?” If that’s the story you are expecting, you can stop here. That is not our story.
For my family, when it came time to settle the estate, my siblings and I sat down together in our childhood living room and spoke very frankly. All in our 60s and 70s, we knew our own minds and we knew each other well enough to hash it out together fairly quickly.
My brother said he wanted the house. He had no desire to leave the local area, so taking over the family home was his top wish.
My sister wanted my mom. You read that right. Her one request was that Mom move in with her so she could take care of her and ensure she had constant familiarity and companionship. This suited Mom perfectly, and so she moved into my sister’s home where she spent the final 10 years of her life.
Are you now wondering what it was I wanted? One thing: a cabinet that had sat in our family’s living room for as long as I can remember and surely longer. It contained the most glorious accumulation of ‘stuff.’
As a child, I wanted nothing more than to open the doors and explore all the knickknacks inside. I’d ask my mom about everything, driving her crazy as she was trying to get on with other tasks around the house. To me, a burnt casserole in the oven was just fine if I got to hear the story of Grandma’s crystal bowl one more time.
The Cabinet of Curiosity Lives On
This cabinet of curiosities now sits in my home, filled with some heirlooms from my mother and my grandparents too. But over the years it has taken on the personality, interests, and lives of me, my husband, our children, and our grandchildren. It’s filled with stories, stories we tell as often as we may. The reality is, we have so little time together with our family that I don’t think there will ever be enough time to share them all.
When I use the dishes and glasses, I think of the relatives who owned them. For example, one of my dear mother-in-law’s beautiful wine glasses has a nick on the edge. When I wash and dry the glass, and feel the edge, and I remember how she dearly loved her family despite our flaws.
We have a silver bowl awarded to my husband for outstanding geological research, always in need of a polish, and seldom out on display (shame on us!).
Buried among the crystal pieces you’ll find a decanter we bought in Prague in 2012. It’s leaded crystal, so we couldn’t actually store the port we'd drink in it. We needed to decant only what we intended to drink. And, with that level of practicality, can you really blame us for letting it fall into disuse?
We also have the baking dish that Grandpa Art used for his freshly caught fish. And two glasses that our wonderful Uncle Lawrence and his friend created as they practiced their glass etching skills. Oh, and the vases from our travels in China. I’ll stop there, because it truly is my cabinet of curiosities.
My hope for you all is that you will discover the joy that is Artifcts. There are stories I want shared with my immediate family only. Other stories are for my siblings, my church friends, and others. Artifcts offers me a safe place to record and share them.
Artifcts has become a lovely addition to my day, sitting down to create a few Artifcts, reflecting on my life, sharing with loved ones, and feeling like I’ve done my bit to ensure my family’s history is passed on. I know one day I’ll leave behind a cabinet of curiosities and memories to cherish.
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We know that maybe your story is not about a cabinet. Maybe your story and the messy memories of lives lived are decorating your shelves, packed away in boxes, or adorning every square inch of your home.
Whatever it is you collect, whatever items you choose to hold onto, do yourself, your stories, and your loved ones a favor, and record what these things mean to you. You may be surprised by the fun you’ll have in the sharing and telling, too!
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