Yesterday, I received a package from my father that included 5 paintings that my grandmother purchased while she lived in Nagoya, Japan. My grandmother and I spoke often and something that she always remembered fondly was her time spent in Japan. She would speak to us with the little Japanese she knew and treasured the art that she purchased during that time more than any other pieces she owned. I grew up seeing these paintings in her home and among all of the art that cycled through that home, her Japanese art was the only constant.
Before her death, she had asked us all repeatedly what we wanted after she was gone. It took a while to become comfortable addressing this, but I finally told her that I really wanted these Japanese paintings. By that time, my father had already put his name on them, so these pieces were to go to him. I've been perfectly fine with that, knowing that they mean much more to him than to me. He grew up with those paintings too and may even have memories of when they were purchased (he was born in Nagoya). So I thought I'd get to see them when I go home for visits and I was content with that.
After I opened this package from him only to find some of the most treasured and personal artifacts from Nannie's life, I called him immediately (verklempt of course). He told me that when he pulled them out to hang them up, he took one look at them, laughed to himself, and thought, "Nah, David's got to have these."
Below are the two pieces that prompted him to send me the 5 total.
Sometimes, it's the smallest artifacts, the things you barely acknowledge in your day to day life, that mean the most.
