Distant relatives

A few weeks ago, my parents and sister moved to another state.  When I found out they were moving, I knew their departure would create a lot for me, too. I didn’t truly anticipate how big that change would be, how big the hole in my world would be. But I’ve discovered an unexpected connection to my mom: my grandmother’s china.

My first memory of grandmother’s china is from when I was maybe 12 years old. Mom and I were sorting a kitchen cabinet and I asked about the dishes. She told me about a grandmother I had never known and how the china was a special remembrance of her. Young, beautify Evelyn married my Pawpaw on January 14, 1947. Pawpaw brought the china to Evelyn from Britain during his WWII service. On November 25 of that year (1 day after Evelyn’s 22nd birthday) my father was born. 11 days after that, Evelyn died from complications from birth.

Imagine hearing, from your mother, that your Daddy never knew his real mother. It was stunning. It was humbling. I was just at the age where I could truly grasp how important my parents were to me, so the thought of not having my mom next to me was staggering. For one of the first times in my life, I felt like I was seeing a tragedy with a grown-up’s eyes, hearing it with my heart. But it was with a child’s sense of wonder and romance that I folded her into my heart forever, deciding on the spot that if I ever had a baby girl, I’d name her Evelyn. Of all our family’s mementos, this china has always felt the most a part of me. These twenty-plus years later, I still sometimes marvel at how our young hearts can forge such strong connections to ancestors we never knew. It’s the power of story. Of family.

As they were packing up their house a few weeks ago, Mom discovered that they needed to downsize, so I off-handedly offered to take the china off her hands. To my delight she agreed! Well, my clan has been gone for almost a month and the boxes have been sitting in my dining room this whole time. I can admit, now, that I’ve been in a bit of denial. Some part of me left the boxes untouched because my family’s absence would somehow be acknowledged in the unpacking.

This weekend I finally tackled the boxes. Still processing the absence! But the act of unpacking, dusting, and generally fawning over the china brought thoughts of my own mother close. Though the china will always be a remembrance of my dad’s mother, the connection was forged by my own mom’s sharing of Evelyn’s story with me. The story, the china, the connection with my grandmother and mother—all treasures that bring my distant relatives closer to my heart.

Tagged as: family, genealogy, grandmothers, keepsakes, mothers