The story of the pearls

Each time I talk to my mother about this project (who is reading this blog now, Hi Mom!), I gain inspiration and insight. Sometimes I get a little frustrated (it is usually with not having enough beads) or not motivated about this project, and then I talk to my mom, and she sounds so inspired, so pleased, that I keep up with it.

Yesterday she called me and she told me that she finally got to see this blog. She told me again that what I was doing was so wonderful and how proud of me she was. And then she told me something I did not know. The pearls I have from my grandmother's collection were actually a birthday gift my mother gave her.

(The photo taken in this blog post taken courtesy of Teena Marie.)

My heart leapt at this. It's comforting somehow that these strands of pearls have a family history that goes from my mother, to my grandmother and now to me. It's odd, but I like the fact that this just wasn't a trinket my grandmother bought for herself, but that it actually has a history that bridges generations. These pearls delicately link the three of us, and now I'm using them to connect with the rest of the family. This thought makes me happy, but it also makes me sad, knowing that I'll never know this necklace's story from my grandmother's perspective. That narrative is now lost to history. As are so many stories I longed for her to tell.

As I'm writing this, I have tears in my eyes. Tears of sadness, tears of comfort, but tears of joy, because even though she isn't here with us any more, her memory lives on. I'm still learning more about her, even now. I think there is some solice in that.

If anyone in the family has any stories about the gold flake beads as well, I'd love to hear them. I have a couple of other interesting pieces, a cross, a pendant, that I'd love to know more about. That's what I ultimately think this blog is about, keeping her memory, her stories alive.