My dad’s mother passed away when I was quite young. Before converting to marry a Protestant she was Catholic.
After converting she held onto her rosary, which I inherited today.
I have a lot of questions. About her, about her faith. Some days about my own. I wish I had gotten the chance to know her better.
I love that she held onto this. Was it a family heirloom? Was she sentimental like me? Or did she dwell in the land of possibility and ambiguity?
I am part of her; it cannot be otherwise. The fact that I do not know how I am like her does not make me dissimilar.
So I’ll treasure my little inheritance and wonder about it, her, and myself.