Things that belonged to my parents

Writing so much about my parents on this blog has led to a very nice surprise. While they annoyed terrorized me for so many of my younger years, I can now think of them with great fondess. Dare I say it? Yeah. I can: All is forgiven.

Putting up posts about them has been healing because they were opportunities to articulate and vent. Somehow, seeing the words here both validated my emotions — and then, helped me let them go.

Move on, baby! Get on with my own life!

For ages, I couldn’t stand to have their photos around.  These days, I am partial to shots from their early married years. In these pictures, their expressions are still soft with the possibility of making their relationship work. They don’t seem aware yet of their dysfunction; hey, maybe that’s another way to describe “hope.” Haha.

It’s also reassuring to keep around a few of their favorite belongings. Very special to touch these familiar objects that were once in my parents’ warm hands. They hang on the wall above my bedroom desk. On the bottom left is Dad’s abacus.

I can still remember him using it in his Chinatown bookkeeping office. For the longest time, he preferred the smooth dark beads for counting money but he eventually gave in and bought a calculator.

Right next to this old-fashioned numbers crunching gadget hangs a padded, velvet-covered board that I made for my collection of pins and brooches. Most of them were salvaged from my Mom’s jewelry box.

Almost all the pins in this next shot were hers. But the “Mother” pin is mine.

The sparkly strawberry pin below was her favorite; just looking at it brings Mom to life (but only in a good way!).  The bottom row includes pins I had as a little girl.

I can understand not using the abacus. But for whatever reason, I never, ever wear pins. Not sure why.  Still, I enjoy having them around. And the ability to think of my folks with affection is such a magnificent form of freedom.