Today I was reminded how something as insignificant as a coffee cup can hold more meaning than just about any other possession that I own. It’s these tiny everyday things and events that become treasured thoughts and memories which comfort us when we feel lost, alone or just like we need a reason to smile.
I was born fairly late in my Dad’s life, and as such, I was in my 20’s when he got sick. Fortunately, he was a tough old guy and fairly stubborn as well. He hung on long enough to forge a bond with my young son and to let me grow up enough to appreciate the person that he was, beyond just being my Dad. A lot of our time was spent sitting and talking over more coffee than any two people should have ever consumed. As he got sicker, Mom retired to care for him and to share what time they had left together. So now we were three, and the coffee disappeared even faster than before.
Ever the creatures of habit, Mom had her cups that said World’s Greatest Mom or World’s Greatest Grandma or the name of a tourist trap that one of us had recently visited. And likewise, Dad had his share of Dad and Grandpa cups, as well as the touristy gifts from his clan. Then there were the cups that all of the kids and grandkids shared. These were older travel cups relegated from Mom and Dad’s daily use or other strays that found their way to us. But each of the three of us kids had a cup that we most often used for these visits with our parents. We all knew that we had more visits behind us than we had ahead of us, and we tried to absorb every moment and nuance.
On the good days, we talked and laughed for hours. But on the bad days, we put those ceramic mugs to the test as we clutched them tighter and tighter while Dad struggled to walk to the bathroom or just to hold his eyes open. But the cups survived and so did we. It was almost as if we were watching the coffee in the cups disappear, but we were all determined to fill that vacated space with memories; the memories that we would need to get through the years without Dad.
After Dad passed, the visits and the coffee were again shared by two. But Mom would always pour my coffee in one of Dad’s cups. The first time, she made a comment about he would like me to use it but after that, she just smiled and I understood. It was Mom’s way of reminding me that he was still here with us. I would look at his cup and I could close my eyes and see it with his big hands clasped around it. He must have held those cups for hundreds of hours over the years. And when I held that fresh warm cup of coffee in my hand, it was almost like I could feel his hand there in mine. It was even warm just like his hands always were.
I drank a lot more coffee out of those cups over the next ten years, even though we had moved away not long after Dad passed. Each visit, Mom had that same sweet smile as she handed me one of his cups filled with hot fresh coffee. It’s funny, but in all of those years, I never pictured myself drinking out of one of Mom’s cups. But that day did finally come. I was only there twice after Mom left her house for the last time. And I just couldn’t bring myself to make a pot of coffee there. It wouldn’t be the same without one of them there to share it with me.
As I walked through my parents’ house, it occurred to me that what I treasured most were the ceramic mugs that cost less than $10 but held a lifetimes worth of memories and love. Those were the priceless treasures that Mom and Dad had left for us. And their lessons taught me that the true value of an item is not measured in dollars and cents.
Oh, my, do I ever love this post, too, Kathy, as I sit here by the fireplace reading it with my cup of coffee in my “World’s Greatest Grandma” cup beside me, now that my Editor’s-at-Large mug is my pen and pencil holder on my desk! What also occurred to me reading it is your insight about your dad’s and mom’s coffee cups being the most important belongings of theirs you now treasure and always will, helps to explain why our kids now don’t want any of our belongings with more monetary worth, it’s the little stuff they want that connects them to a story they can relate to emotionally. Just a thought, but it’s now giving me a better understanding of how to more responsibly downsize our lives as we grow older. Maybe you could write a book about that?!? :)! xxxooo