I like to joke with my mom that my parents’ new house is haunted.
When they first moved in, there was a little door in the room set aside for my brother that would always make noise. This was simply explained because it was the door to the crawl space under the roof. It wasn’t well insulated so every time there was a lot of wind, it would rattle. After renovations, it stopped but I still tell her that the ghost of the old man who lived there before them is still upstairs.
About a month ago, I was sent a text from my dad asking if I wanted his mother’s dishes. They had been passed to my aunt (his sister) when my grandma had died, and now that my aunt has been relocated into a nursing home, she is dividing up her stuff amongst the nephews and nieces. She never married and has no children of her own. The dishes were passed over by two of my female cousins already so it was down to me and one other and she passed as well so they are now mine. I am really happy about that because when I asked my cousin on Facebook, I secretly hoped she would say no so I could claim them. Who doesn’t love inheriting old things?!
My dad and brother picked the dishes up a few weeks ago and when I went home last weekend for Thanksgiving, I finally got to see them. My mom has talked about these dishes for my entire life. She wanted them so badly when she married my dad. But my grandma passed away before she even met my dad so I’m not sure what she was basing her desire off of. She just knew that she wanted them (the meat platter is a highly coveted piece of china). Especially since my aunt is kind of a major introvert and literally has never used them. I had been told the barrels haven’t been opened since they were packed.
Ooo, wait? Barrels? Yes – BARRELS. As in big containers and more than one.
Now if that doesn’t just scream “we contain body parts” I’m not sure what else could?!
The duct tape was so old that I literally was able to break it with my finger. I was allowed to open one barrel to see what the dishes looked like since no one could really give me a description other than “white, blue floral pattern, real gold trim”.
Before opening them up, I did make sure my mom was ok with me releasing my grandma’s spirit into the house once the lid was taken off, she laughed it off and said to go for it – she could keep the ghost of the old man company. If she wasn’t already haunting the old farmhouse (more on that in another post!)
The dishes were cute! I only unrolled a few pieces to get a feel of them. And I really do think that it’s true they haven’t seen the light of day since they were packed up. The newspapers inside were dated from 1984 and were all browned from the passing of time.
Look at my mom holding up a teacup! She’s cute you guys – and she finally got to see the dishes! We didn’t discover the much talked about meat platter, but with two huge barrels to eventually sort through, I’m sure it’s in there somewhere.
A huge part of me is super excited to have the dishes, and I kind of wish I had a place of my own so I could take them home and unpack them and put them out on display and possibly use them in the near future, but they are staying in their barrels until that time comes.
But another part of me feels kind of weird. Once I knew that I was going to be getting them, I went through this phase of contemplation. I was never able to meet my dad’s parents – both died before he met my mom (I only met my maternal grandmother actually and she died when I was 12). So I never met her but now I have something kind of super close to her. Doesn’t every bride take super great care in picking out her china? Its weird to have something of hers – I never imagined I would be getting anything that belonged to her (except having her son for my dad which is pretty awesome cos my dad is literally the best).
I don’t know – is it weird that I feel weird about it?