Many years ago, after my grandma passed away, each of us grand kids were given “our” ornament from her tree.
This past weekend, as my family and I were decorating our Christmas tree, I pulled the ornament out of the box and told my daughter Maddie how this was Mommy’s favorite ornament because it’s the one I’ve had the longest. Then, I noticed the inscription: Dana 1978. “Hmmm, that’s not by birth year,” I thought.
I sent a text to my mom. “Turns out I’m only 35!” I wrote. We texted a few times back and forth, and then a few days later, we discussed the mysterious date again. How did we never notice this before? Why does is say “1978”? Did someone engrave my birth year wrong? Was that possibly the year they gave the ornaments to my grandma?
We asked some of the other grand kids, but many didn’t know where their ornaments where, and those who did know said their ornaments didn’t have an engraved date. I started to feel the sadness in my heart:
There is nobody left to ask.
My grandma is gone, my Aunt Carole is gone, my Aunt Ginny is gone. The people who would know, the people who were there so many years ago when those ornaments were given to my grandma, the people who lived that part of our family history… they’re gone. My mom is the only one left of that group of Buettner women. The only one left. There is nobody left to ask.