I'm wearing a piece from the past...
Yesterday Mom and I were looking through old silver and flatware that belonged to my great-grandmother, Marie Black Murtland. She was a wonderful woman (so I'm told) who was adored by my dad, and who died much too young when he was just a boy. A friend made this ring for my mom from one of her spoons, and yesterday, Mom gave it to me.
Every time I look at it's shine I think of of those who came before me, my ancestors who held this same spoon in their hard-working and wonderful hands. Was it part of a wedding gift perhaps? Or did my great-grandfather sacrifice to buy it?
I think of Marie washing and drying and laying it away time and time again, handing it to my dad when he was teething or to her son for a taste of what she was cooking--her 2nd son was my Dad's dad; he also died much too young at 33, just a few years after she did.
I think of this spoon touching the lips of the generations with love and sustenance, shining bright with the reflection of life and words shared, and what it must have been like to sit around their table. Did they know how wonderful they were? Did they appreciate each other? Did they laugh and cry and show affection?
I think it strange I know about them, but they had no clue of me. How one day I would wear their history there on my hand and cherish their stories deep within my heart. How I would shine their light as part of my own, and wonder what it might be like to know them face to face, heart to heart, hand to hand.
Thanks for the ring, Mom! I love you and Dad so much it hurts.
And thank you, Dad, for choosing to overcome and pass on this Murtland legacy! This circle of life, it's all becoming clearer the more we see with our hearts.
