Honoring Nana: Lessons from Treasuring Nana's Jewelry
Sentimental? Not Me.
I’ve always thought of myself as someone who isn't sentimental. I’ve thrown away countless items over the years—except my journals. Those, I’ve kept. Little did I know, one day, I would own jewelry that I now consider even more priceless than my journals.
Our Journey
About a month and a half after learning Nana had cancer—and about a month and a half before she passed—Paige and I found ourselves in a hospital room dividing Nana’s jewelry. We used ziplock bags and a sharpie to label them with names and pertinent details.
Nana had been in a skilled living facility for about a week and a half, regaining enough strength to avoid terrible pain until her final weeks. Then, after a stroke, she was back in the hospital for the third time in two months.
While I don’t remember all the details, Nana had decided it was time to divide her jewelry. I think Paige brought it all to the hospital. What stands out most is the care and thought Nana put into choosing who would receive each piece.
That afternoon was a mix of laughter, tears, and stories—an unforgettable memory of me, Nana, Paige, and Papaw. (Papaw, of course, was mostly along for the ride.) We all understood why we were there: Nana wasn’t going to get better. It was time to plan, and this was important to her.
We spent the afternoon surrounded by jewelry, some pieces dating back to my great-great-grandmother. Paige and I labeled and bagged everything, ensuring nothing would get lost. Amid the bittersweetness of the moment, I felt immense gratitude to hear Nana’s stories about each piece and to witness her love and thoughtfulness firsthand.
It’s one of my most treasured memories with Nana.
Wisdom from the Journey: Lessons You Can Use
I don’t know if I “learned” something specific that day, but the experience reinforced some important truths:
Embrace the emotions.
Feel the happiness, cry the tears, and savor the moment as it is. Acknowledging the truth of the situation made the day even more meaningful.
Prepare for a mix of emotions.
There were moments of joy, sadness, and even anger. Family dynamics are complex, and past events can resurface. Feel those emotions rather than bottling them up. (For example, I got mad at Papaw for what I think was a lie about breaking one of my great-grandfather’s rings!)
Live in the moment.
That day, as heartbreaking as it was, also brought laughter, connection, and a sense of closure.
Pro Tips from Our Journey
Use a notebook.
Keep track of items, notes, and plans so you don’t have to rely on memory. I wrote down other items Nana wanted or who they should go to.
Make plans for family events.
My dad organized one last family cookout where Nana handed out her jewelry and other items.
Let your loved one take the lead.
If they’re able, let them dictate what happens. We were fortunate that Nana could share her wishes until her final days.
Don’t hide from emotions.
Nana didn’t want a funeral; the cookout became her version of one. Preparing for it was both hard and healing. I’m glad I allowed myself to feel everything.
I now wear a pair of small 14k gold hoop earrings every day. They remind me of Nana and bring her with me wherever I go. I also treasure her sweaters and scarves, which I’ll protect and cherish forever.
What about you? What is your most treasured possession? How did your family honor the memory of a loved one? Share your stories below—I’d love to hear them.