Keepsakes

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It’s funny how everyday things we barely notice can become treasured memories once someone has died. This past weekend, a friend brought me a card that Tim’s mom had given her parents for their anniversary. His mom had signed it so beautifully. 

Tim’s mom was a character, she loved to party, was loud, laughed often, enjoyed her scotch and cigarettes, and lived to be 93 years old, drinking, smoking, and carrying on as much as her small body would allow. She and I shared a birthday; I’m sure Freud would have had a thing or two to say to Tim about that! Tim smiled when he saw the card with his mom’s handwriting, remembering her in all her glory.

I couldn’t imagine tossing it after seeing that smile on my husband’s face, so I cut out the signature, taped it to the front of the card, and put it in a little frame, excited for him to see it prominently displayed in the living room. Well, after three days of him walking right by it without noticing, I finally pointed it out… and there was that smile again, this time mixed with a bit of confusion about what else might have been changed without his notice.

Maybe I should find an old signature of my dad’s to frame....not a bad idea. The old cursive writing is so beautiful, and certainly not something we see every day anymore. I’ve always loved little notes; I have a few from my kids that I’ve framed, because why the heck not? I sense another project coming on. I may request handwritten notes from all my kids and grandkids this Mother’s Day, perfect treasures.

I love it when I look through old recipes and see my grandmother’s writing, or my mom’s. I’m not sure my kids will treasure my chicken scratch, but I may have to write them a note or two anyway. Who knew an old card, packed away for 25 years, would bring such joy or inspiration?

Maybe that’s the thing about handwriting, it’s more than words on paper; it’s a piece of someone that lingers long after they’re gone. And perhaps the smallest, most ordinary things we hold onto today will become the most meaningful keepsakes tomorrow. 

“Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality.” ~ Emily Dickinson