We were especially close in her last year of life. We (my mom and I) had moved her here so that we could keep a closer watch. She had been living over eight hours away, and it was time for her to be closer to family.
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| Grandpa (left) and Grandma, when they first met. |
Over the months, we've been trying to manage her massive collection of things. Collectibles, dishes, stuffed animals, books, many things that are very old, and very dear to me. I have kept as many things as my house (and Matt) will allow me to have. Which is a lot, quite frankly. Much of it is sentimental value, things I remember seeing in her room when I was growing up.
I've been photographing things for my vintage website, Aunt Jean's Vintage. It has been a wonderful project for me, both to help me remember my grandma, and also to learn more about her life. I turn things over in my hands, wondering when she got it. A birthday gift? A find at the Discovery Shop where she volunteered?
I wish I knew more about each piece. And I wish I had a museum where I could store it all, and go in every day to look at the glittering perfume bottles. But there's something wonderfully special about packing something in bubble wrap, wrapping it carefully for the journey. Adding a splash of colorful tissue paper, a ribbon, a card.
I hope that she would be proud. I think she would. My clearest memories of her as a child involved a big flea market we used to go to. There were Avon bottles lined up on the shelves, a pipe organ in the back that I would practice my Phantom of the Opera score on. I wish sometimes I could visit that time again. A sugar topped orange muffin sounds pretty good right now.
xoxo
S.R.W.
