Owning a Piece of Someone’s Life

I plagiarized borrowed this title from a post on Olive TreeGenealogy by Lorine McGinnis Schulze because her post describes my feelings as well. Owning objects that were a part of a person’s life does seem to me like owning a piece of that life.  I have very few such objects – all extremely precious to me.

I have my Dad’s rosary.  My parents were devout Catholics who prayed the rosary daily.  It’s not just something that belonged to him; it is something that was important to him that he used every day.

A small diamond that my Dad gave to my Mom represents their love and devotion to one another. It is more precious to me than its monetary value.

I have my Aunt Martha’s First Communion prayer book - in Polish. It was not merely a token of that occasion, but something she used often enough that the spine is repaired with adhesive tape. She was a delightful woman full of spunk and spirit.

There are a few more items in my treasure chest - all equally cherished.

Photographs are great, but I love having something tangible to reinforce the memories and reality of their lives

.