by Dr. Jeffrey Lant
I am about to open a time capsule. It’s been waiting for me for some years now, and I am, I think, as ready as I shall ever be to look inside — and to be swept away by the strongest and most enduring memories… of mother, deceased, never more alive in my mind.
I am writing this article for just 4 people, first, my mother herself; she and I discussed this subject on several occasions and I want to keep faith with her.
Second, I am writing this article for me. I resolved some time ago that as incidents in my mother’s life rose to the top of my consciousness, I would write about them, the better to remember her and keep her memory green.
The third person for whom this is written is my only niece Chelsea; she’s the young woman (now just 21) who will get these pieces, and I want her to know her grandmother better; to at least know her through my eyes. Chelsea, your grandmother lives again here, and it is my hope you will understand just what that means and your role, for you are the one designated by fate, destiny and your grandmother and I to have, behold, savor this jewelry — and, in your turn, to pass them on with the seriousness and thoughtfulness they deserve.
Finally, I am writing this article for you, dear reader. Why? Because at some point in your life you will face the exact subject of this article and must do it completely right the first time. This article will enable you to do just that…
The intimacy of jewelry.
All jewelry is valuable, even that you find on the bargain table of the five-and-dime. Just what that value is depends on the materials used, the fame of the person who designed it, the company that sold it, and the overall impact of the work. On these things you have no influence whatsoever
But on the final point your opinion is everything: what emotional wallop does the piece pack, an intangible that emanates from the loved one who wore this beautiful item, what she thought of it, where and when she wore it, photographs in which the item is featured, etc. So does such an object become an apperture into the life of and memories about your departed beloved… and you must make a decision about their importance and intensity to you… and who might have them after you, too, are gone. All this is essential, not easy, and fraught with emotional dynamite.
Pen, paper, object, focus.
It is easy to get distracted when you’re sorting items as intimate as your mother’s jewelry. These items are, after all, of the greatest personal significance to you, as must be the case given the person they once adorned, brightening her life — and yours. Such memories, too, deserve your full attention… but not until the business is handled. For this you need the following items: pen, paper, camera and an easy-to-work-in space where you can unpack the items and work with them. Drawing up a list on your computer is also advisable and makes it easy to communicate with the people involved in this matter. Do this as soon as possible.
This is easier said than done.
As you can see from this article I deferred handling this matter for several years. This would have been irresponsible of me but for the unique circumstances of our family. There were only three ladies in the family who had and still have (in the case of the two juniors) any involvement in this matter, and one being removed from the scene, the other two, mother and daughter, did not demand or insist upon an instant resolution to the business… rather the reverse as Chelsea, the one who would get most everything, was not ready for ownership yet as still an undergraduate without fixed address or life’s work… and so the matter could be continued without inconvenience to anyone. This is why the objects waited so long for my detailed attention, inspection, report, and distribution.
But now the time capsule must be opened, each item evocative of its owner brought forth, and the important work begun, as I am doing here at my desk.
The importance of each object being marked and recorded, boxed, ready for the next owner, like Mary Regina did.
I take as my superb skill model Queen Mary, wife of King George V. She might have been a curator of a museum, and in all practical particulars she was, given the professional way she handled all items in the collection of the royal house of Windsor. Each was examined by the Queen and often all its important details clearly recorded in her own fair hand. Well, if it’s good enough for Queen Mary, it’s good enough for me. And so, with great care, I take the first box out of the shopping bag where the jewelry has lived for a prolonged period. It is now time for its renewed appearance, to be worn and treasured by another generation.
Open the first box and begin.
If you are lucky the recipient of the jewelry with which you are charged has been scrupulous about saving the box the item came in and any paperwork, like invoice or sales slip. These are important since they contain vital information which may bear on the value and rarity of the piece. Keep them safe… and always gather these details for your heirs. I have been a good guardian… that is my pride as I start to pull the dusty boxes into the light.
And, then, unbidden the insistent memories are here, demanding a sustained attention I feel compelled to give.
The penny-farthing bicycle pin in silver… a reduced version of her Baron’s coronet, set in gold, the ancient title hers in her own right… the golden Christmas wreath pin set in emeralds and sapphires she wore to every seasonal party, for she loved the gladdening smell, regretting only that this pin could not duplicate the original…
And so it went, items unearthed, opened, scrutinized, remembered… each one a memory tugging at my heart… but I had promised myself I would focus first and foremost on the business at hand… and I kept this promise until one very special piece of jewelry emerged, immediately catching the light and igniting.
It was the gold iridescent dragonfly with its dense green and gold motif. I recognized it at once; after all, I had given it to her. In addition to the card that accompanied the original gift, there was a message in my hand. “She always said she wanted to fly free as the curious dragonfly. And now she does…”
I broke down and sobbed, for at this moment human frailty, human limitations, human mortality were all too close, too painful, too real. And now this brilliant creature is in my hand half a world away… and here I shall keep it, until Chelsea is ready and knows why the tears flowed hot and heartfelt and will keep it safe as I have done.
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