It’s been a while since I’ve written a “things that matter” post, and I think I’m overdue. Since I’m sitting in the girls’ unused nursery, wondering what will become of it, what better day to talk about Grandma Barb’s watercolor print that’s been hanging on the wall since our second born came along.
For those new around here, I believe it’s essential to decorate our homes with the things that matter. Whether displaying your great-grandmother’s china, hanging family photos, tchotchkes on the shelves from your honeymoon, or (true story) framing a potato sack from your hometown.
When we decorate our homes with these things, it gives meaning and makes our home not only uniquely us, but a museum of the moments and people we hold dearly. There’s no comparison between a mass-produced piece of art from Target with your grandmother’s artwork.
A Little Ditty About Grandma Barb
Grandma Barb, my husband Colby’s grandmother, was a very special lady. From the moment I met her to her dying day, she always made me feel loved and part of the family. She was kind and caring, yet a firecracker right through to her 90s. If I have half the spunk, love, connection, or creativity she showed in her twilight years, I’m doing all right.
Her spunkiness, character, and individuality are the characteristics I treasure most. I’ll never forget our wedding day when she came up to me at the reception and whispered in my ear. First, she welcomed me to the family. Then she told me it’s about time Colby got married; she was starting to wonder about him. And finally, a racy garter comment that I prefer not to share with the internet. It’s a story that has become a family legend.
She also loved her family deeply, regardless of the colorful comments about the trouble with her boys.
I have a picture of Grandma Barb holding baby Rowan. You can feel the love through the photo. To this day, it is one of my all-time favorite family photos. I need to frame it. Sadly, she passed away the year before Bea was born and never met her. Bea’s spirit often reminds me of her.
One of the characteristics I’ve always admired about Grandma Barb was her creative endeavors. She took up painting in her 60s and 70s, shortly after retiring from a long career in nursing. Then also became a published author.
I want that, to keep being creative well into my golden years. To continue writing, creating, and making. And if there’s anything that inspires me to continuously create, it’s Grandma Barb. It’s one of the reasons having her art print hanging in our home is so special. It’s a constant reminder to create anyway. Despite age, budget, or time constraints, there is always room for creativity.
The Arrival Of The Art Print
During Grandma Barb’s transition to a nursing home and again after her passing, her children sorted through her belongings. Her daughter, Colby’s aunt, bore the brunt of the work and kept things she thought others would appreciate, including an original watercolor floral painting by Grandma Barb.
The first Christmas without Barb, just after we found out we were pregnant with Bea (and had told no one at this point), a surprise package came in the mail from Colby’s aunt, a framed print of the pink floral watercolor. She had them made and sent to all of Barb’s grandchildren that Christmas.
Now, a little backstory about Bea’s pregnancy to make the art print even more special. Both of our children are the result of extensive AND expensive fertility treatments. Bea’s was even trickier. We tried to get pregnant throughout the summer and fall of 2019 without much luck. That Christmas, we had decided to attempt IVF, which was the recommended next step per our reproductive endocrinologist. We explored it and set up tests for January of 2020, intending to start treatment in March.
We all know what happened in March 2020, and unexpectedly, our fertility clinic shut down for months. It was heartbreaking for another delay in our fertility journey. It reopened in late summer of 2020, and we started walking down the IVF route in the fall with so many fertility drugs, egg retrievals, etc. In December, we transferred an embryo, and on the winter solstice, found out we were pregnant with Bea.
Fertility treatments were a dark time for Colby and me, especially when you layer in the stress and uncertainty of a global pandemic. It was so fitting that we got the positive pregnancy news on the darkest day of the year during one of the darkest times of our lives. I’ll never forget it. Then, to receive art from one of the brightest lights in our lives was extra impactful.
You better believe we were hanging that print in the nursery. It would be another couple of months before we found out Bea was a girl, extra fitting for the pink floral. And fast forward to today, watching Bea blaze through the world, her light shining bright, brings me full circle.
While our nursery days may be over, Grandma Barb’s art lives on and will find a new home within our home. Maybe in the girls’ shared bedroom? Or maybe in the craft room? Who knows. When something is meaningful and beautiful, you find a home for it.
I intend to pass the watercolor down to Bea someday, as I believe it is rightly hers. Until then, I’ll steward it for her and honor Grandma Barb’s memory in the process. Here’s to Grandma Barb, creativity, and love!
Pssst…Tell me, do you have sentimental family art as well? Feel free to share in the comments!
Psssssst…I’ve been stewing over what to do with the unused nursery space, and I think the girls and I finally came up with a great idea! Now to finish some other projects first so I can justify working on it. Stay tuned!
Thank you for this thoughtful and lovely post. We, too, struggled to have our kiddo, after a very traumatic miscarriage. And our kiddo never got to meet his great grandmas, who had been enormous influences in our lives.
My beloved grandma never even got to meet my now husband, nor my grandpa (who I never knew). But I know they would have loved him, and I feel their influence, every time I “make do” in the kitchen, or when my hubby cobbles together a brilliant household solution out of random parts.
They live on–just not the way I’d hoped. So giant hugs to everyone who grieves, and yet grows.
Hugs to you and for sharing such a precious story (I may be crying now after reading your comment). Thank you. I also love how our grandparents live on in different ways. It’s so true.