Hi Elaine, At Carolyn’s house there is a large box of family photos. Susan, Ellen, and I all care about them, but none of us is really interested in being the caretaker of them.  Would you like to take on that duty? If so, we will gladly package and ship them to you . .  . what do you think?  Love you, Beth

Until last November, my family had nine first cousins, seven girls and two boys, dotting the map from Utah to Florida. Through a tragic car accident, cousin Carolyn abruptly left her three sisters, two step-sons and a host of nieces, a nephew, step-grands, relatives and friends.

Faith helps. Time helps. But nothing can replace the loved one we have lost. Lost is an common word we use when someone dies. Yes, I will be the keeper. Send me the box.

“How many people have been born, lived rich loving lives, laughed and wept, been part of creation and are now forgotten, unremembered by anybody walking on earth today?” wondered Madeleine L’Engle as her mother was slipping away because of dementia.

Throughout our lives  we gather, save and curate a variety of  objects that are useful or enjoyable or meaningful to us. And into our households most of us assimilate a hodge podge of family items that have been christened heirlooms.  Becoming the keeper of the possessions of our forbears helps keep our heritage alive.

heir + loom (Middle English)
heir = ‘heres’ (as in heredity), something passed down
loom = from ‘lome’ or ‘allame’, a weaving tool , a farm implement, to take shape or the finished product after a gradual process

My mother is still living but we are gradually losing her because of Alzheimer’s Disease. Together we have sorted through almost every object, photograph and letter, but now only my sisters and I can verify that the cloth doll she played with was named “Reagan”.

We three have the fullest memory of our mother among anyone still living, yet it is fragmentary. Who will tell her stories now?  Who will be the keeper of mine?

                    

“I would like to believe that the Creator still remembers all of my mother, knows and cares for the [essence] of her and is still teaching her and helping her to grow into the self he created her to be, her integrated redeemed self.” 

Madeleine L’Engle, Summer of the Great-Grandmother, p. 233