The real value of ancestry and antiques

Living in Canada comes with a lingering ache for ancestry and attachment towards inherited material objects.

My father and I went to an open house organised for the sale of a house when and we came across a beautiful vintage house. It was furnished with all 1950s furniture without a single scratch. The intricately designed mirror, lockable fridge, plywood pool table, finest maple wood piano and a vintage sewing machine which popped out from a table looked new as it would’ve been when it was bought.

My father and I fell in love with everything immediately.

The owner of the house told us that it belonged to his parents. His father had passed away recently so his siblings and he had decided to send their mother to an old age facility as they couldn’t take care of her because of their busy lives. Therefore, they had decided to sell the house.

I told him about our love for vintage things so he started showing us the furniture. The sewing machine was from the 1920s which his mother kept since she was a little girl. She had great fondness for sewing and till date on Christmas she would sew sweaters for her children and grandchildren.

My dad and I had a heartwarming appreciation for that machine till the guy said he’s getting rid of it for free. He took us to the wooden three mirror vanity. The intricate design on the side of the mirror took him down memory lane as he recalled how he had seen his mother apply rouge everyday of her life right in front of the mirror. He switched the topic and said he’d be scrapping it unless someone wanted to buy it.

Next he showed us a record player with Elvis’s records placed on a side which his dad cherished till the day he passed away. He exclaimed he’s giving it for free too as it’s junk for them now.

My dad and I felt an ache and the discomfort led us back to the car after telling him that we’ll let him know if we were interested in the house or furniture. In that moment, I saw my father turn emotional. He said he didn’t have the heart to buy or take anything out of that house.

“Is this the ultimate truth, Sahiba? Enni reejh naal ghar banaande maa-pey (Parents spend their whole life making a house with the best of things),” my father said. “What are the children doing? Selling it all out by labelling it junk! Is there no sentimental value for years of ancestry? Or is there no feeling of having it passed down after being touched by generations of his family?”

Death is inevitable but at least we can cherish what we have, but if that man couldn’t cherish his mother after losing his father, how could we expect him to cherish these treasures of a different era.

“Look at your nanu (maternal grandfather),” my dad said. “The last calendar that your nani had put up before passing away in 1996 still firmly sticks to the cupboard in his house, he never took it off. These are the values we want the children to have instilled in them, keep the memories safe whether material or emotional.”

I SAW MY FATHER TURN EMOTIONAL. HE SAID HE DIDN’T HAVE THE HEART TO BUY OR TAKE ANYTHING OUT OF THAT HOUSE