Heirlooms

Perhaps you remember the post I wrote in July of 2012 just after we returned from the service honoring the life and passing of Tom's paternal grandmother. She had died a few months prior but wished to be cremated and then be celebrated at a party. I found this spirit to be spectacular! The morning we were all to leave, we went to Grandma's house, and I was lucky to get to take many of her kitchen items home, including beautiful champagne coupes, a potato masher, some sheet pans and so on. I use much of what I brought back on a regular basis! Anyway, when Jack and I went home for Nanny's funeral last month, I similarly spent time on my last day there poking through Nanny's kitchen cabinets. I think because I had been so close to her and her death was still so new, going through her things was a much heavier experience than was going through Grandma's. I almost felt like a thief defiling a sacred space. You might recall that I mentioned her Saltines tin and shared a picture of it with you. The oval roaster, her canning funnel, an old menu-making guide from her and Papa's restaurant... fingering those items brought back so many memories; each of them is imbued with such history.

Today I opened a large, carefully wrapped box from my mom and found inside all of these items and more. I adore this green and white Pyrex mixing bowl, and this 10" springform pan helped make innumerable cheesecakes over the years during which Nanny cooked. My dad loved her cherry cheesecake, and she used to make him one for his birthday each year. The rounded-corner pan was the one in which she made her refrigerator sheet cakes, and she had such a collection of old -really vintage now!- ornaments (see Santa in there?).

I have missed Nanny regularly since she died; her absence has been like a low-grade fever I can't shake. I have thought many times about how different Christmas in Louisiana will be this year without her home to spend Christmas Eve in, Nanny in her recliner, the Queen of it all. But I have my memories and now I have these physical memories too. Each time I use the pan or the funnel or hang Santa on our tree, another image of her will sweep through my mind. I hope I'll remember to pause and enjoy the reel slowly, helping the pictures stick for good.