My mom just gave me a set of sapphires that she got as a wedding present from my dad’s mom. My dad kept saying that she should have saved it to give to her future daughter in law, but I’ve coveted those jewels ever since I was a little girl. My mom always promised me that she would give them to me when I got married, and I was thrilled that she remembered.
One of my great aunts from the Balkans left me six Iron Crosses, the prize one barely hangs together because the bastard was wearing it the day he got between her crosshairs. Whenever the world gets me down, I look at them, and find inspiration to stand against all odds.
Called it! The engagement is off, and moving home is on… And the more I learn about the situation, the more I think that it’s not just her youth and flakiness. So - bad news/good news, disaster averted IMHO.
Do you really mean 1960s? Your great-grandmother? I’m hardly ancient and my great-grandmother was born sometime in the late 1800s.
We think it is from her second marriage.
My maternal grandparents spent the bulk of their career running an antique business together; it combined my grandmother’s artsy/fashion side with my grandfather’s business sense, and it let them travel Europe together buying merchandise at little flea markets, mostly in France and England. They gave all of us beautiful things over the years, mostly jewelry. So they aren’t mostly family heirlooms as such; my grandmother (now almost 96 years old) had a fabulous sense of style and frequently sold jewelry off her own body at antique shows (which meant she basically rotated the stock through her jewelry box - she would wear something for a while, and then sell it).
I love every piece of jewelry they have ever given me, and was especially sad when my first apartment was burglarized and I lost all my rings, including a beautiful Art Nouveau sapphire and white gold filigree one they gave me when I was maybe 10 years old. I never lost a piece of jewelry they gave me until then.
I hope someday Mom hands down to me the ornate antique silverware they painstakingly collected for her as a wedding gift.
I have a circular brooch from my maternal grandmother. I don’t know if it has any monetary value, but I remember her wearing it, and it feels good to wear it when I’m facing a situation that has me feeling nervous or uncertain. It’s like I know she’s got my back.
I have this ceramic kangaroo that used to belong to my grandfather on the stand next to my bed, I keep my dad’s old watch hanging on it’s tail. The watch means a lot to me.
The only thing I have been specifically bequeathed (and therefore may favourite by default, but I love it anyway) is an enormous, dark wood desk. It has rows of drawers down both sides and a heavy wooden roll-top which is somehow very satisfying to raise and lower. It sat in my grandfather’s hallway for years and was a gift to his father for 40 years of playing the organ at his local church. At the moment it serves as my keyboard stand, which kind of makes my crappy 4-octave Yamaha look like an amazing piano. So it is useful, a genuine heirloom, and good looking. But I have to admit that the main reason I like it is that it annoys the hell out of my wife every time she thinks she wants to have a modern interior :).
Oh, and a recent addition to the top of this magnificent piece of furniture is a large clock from my grandmother-in-law (who is still very much alive, but had a clearout when she moved house). It must be around 150 years old but has recently been repaired, and keeps time pretty well. It chimes all the quarters and hours - I love it!
My most prized possession is an old wooden antique crucifix. I don’t know exactly who it belonged to, just that it had been in my family for generations until my dad “borrowed” it from his brother. Even though my dad is an atheist he hung it above my crib when I was a baby and it’s hung near my bed ever since. He told me once that the crucifix was on the wall in the room where one of my great-uncles was dying and apparently the dying man saw ghostly arms reaching out from it.
I don’t have it yet, because my mum is happily still alive, but I have my name on her cookbook which is a really old exercise book from her nursing days that has recipes dating from the 60s onwards. A mix of handwritten recipes and clippings from magazines. It will just be a wonderful reminder of her and times we cooked together. 