We hold onto things, we wrap our memories around them and fill them with the love that was given to the person they remind us of. When those things break it can break us all over again. An accident that can happen any day of the week but today that thing was a tangible piece of my mum. A small ornament that she had on her mantle, I saw it every day, and know how she loved it amongst others in her collection. It sat on our window sill at the top of the stairs, I saw it every time I went up or came down, and never lost my appreciation of it, often just picking it up and enjoying that moment of connection with her.
This morning my husband knocked it off, I heard something bouncing down the stairs, I heard the crash as it hit the stone umbrella jar. It was was an every day accident, but when I saw it in pieces at the bottom of the stairs it was shattering for me. All I could say was “oh no …..”
I gathered the pieces and sobbed at my loss, this shattered thing, breaking me all over again. How many times do we have to go through this pain? I let the sobs out, no one to hide from and my grief flowed once more, in all its raw ugliness.
As time passed and the tears slowed, I thought about the pieces and decided I couldn’t just discard them, I would wrap them carefully and with love, as I had so many gifts for my mum over the years, before putting this gift from her in the bin.
I cut some paper and placed the pieces on it, I started to hold them and put them together, again loving the lines of the dress and the hands. As I set individual pieces together in my hands, I thought about how I had pieced myself together over the last few years and in that moment knew I had a decision to make. I will sit with it and think about what to do, perhaps putting her pieces back together and to treasure her fractures all the more for what she represents, once again drawing on the ancient Japanese philosophy of Kintsugi which helps us celebrate our flaws, or perhaps it is time to let this little ornament go and find my own peace in that too.
Touching and wonderful read Susan - thank you Susan x
I know that feeling. My mum gave me a huge blown glass French carboy- I mean HUGE with many strictures not to break it and reminders of how treasured it was. These days, it WOULD have been rare and valuable, had I not caught it with the hoover tube one day and it explode into thousands of shards as though I’d shot it. Still feel that pain thinking about it, even though she never knew. It’s a balance between “it’s just Stuff” and “yes but that stuff is Memories”. Did you keep it or let it go?