Inheritance by Mary Ellen Raab

Inheritance

This story begins where it ends, with the ownership of a pendant watch, passed through many hands and three generations. If it seems faintly reminiscent of the O’Henry story, that is accidental.

Our grandmother, Ellen Fennessey, decided to leave Ireland sometime in the late eighteen hundreds and come to America. I am sure she believed that the arduous trip would be worth it. This was the post-famine era in Ireland, and although crops began to grow again, the stranglehold the British had on Ireland meant that all would live in abject poverty. Like many others, she took her chance on traveling to America in what came to be called the “Coffin Ships” because so many died on the crossing. Kathleen said to me once that this was a sailing ship, not a steamer but I cannot verify it. I do know that she told her children that the trip took several weeks, so it is likely that they were under sail, not power. Nevertheless, she did emigrate and stayed in New York for a few years, working as my mother would do some thirty odd years later, as a domestic to a wealthy family. Eventually, the pull of home outweighed any attraction and promise the new world held. Thus, she made the decision to once again cross the Atlantic back to Ireland. However, before leaving New York, she indulged herself with one expensive item – a gold pendant watch. This would be her dearest possession for her entire life.

In 1958 when she was in her eighties, she became very ill. A letter, or perhaps a telegram was sent to Mamie, Bridie and Eddie to tell them their mother was sick and that it was a matter of little time before she would be gone. Thus, my mother and Uncle Eddie decided to fly to Ireland, hoping they would be with their mother when she died. It was my mother’s first trip home in over thirty years and her first trip on a plane. They did get to see their mother before she died, but unfortunately, she was unable to recognize them and passed within days of their arrival.  They stayed about a week more and returned to America. However, before leaving, one of their siblings took the precious watch purchased more than sixty years before and gave it to my mother who was the oldest girl in the family. My mother treasured the watch but wore it seldom, having few opportunities to wear something so valuable, both in cost and memories.

Sometime later, my mother made a generous decision. She gave the watch to Uncle Eddie to give to Ellen, our grandmother’s namesake, and the oldest child in our generation. Ellen wore it a few times and was proud to own it. Yet somehow, she knew that my mother had given away something she treasured. So, several years later, Ellen told my mother she was giving her back the watch which she felt should have stayed with her. My mother was extremely touched, and uncharacteristically agreed to take it. First, though, Ellen brought it to a local jeweler in New Jersey for cleaning and a repair.  From that point until my mother’s death, I didn’t hear or think much about the watch.

Mom died in 1995 and left a will naming Thomas as executor. A few months after her passing, he was ready to finalize the distribution of her few meager possessions. We agreed to meet one morning in her apartment and figure out what to do with the furnishings, some memorabilia and her jewelry. To be fair, Thomas had us draw numbers and select furniture first and then the other items. Outside of a few nice pieces of jewelry – a diamond ring, a long strand of beautiful pearls and some nice bracelets, there was little of value. But, sitting among the baubles was a pendant watch. Knowing how much it had meant to her, I decided to take that as my first choice. Somehow, it didn’t seem to be the way I remembered it, but then, my mother hadn’t worn it very often.

At home, I tearfully went through the various things I had inherited, remembering how they related to her life and what they had meant to her. I turned the watch over and over in my hands. Curious, I looked to see what karat gold it was as I knew that much of the gold of the nineteenth century was eighteen or even twenty-four karats. I couldn’t find a marking anywhere. Also, the color of the gold seemed suspiciously yellow. “I must ask Ellen about this,” I thought, which I did the next time we visited. Ellen then told me what my mother had not. The watch which Ellen had brought in for repairs so many years ago was missing. It seems the jeweler closed shop days after Ellen had dropped off the watch and the owner couldn’t be found. She tearfully told my mother who assured her it wasn’t any big deal. My mother probably never told a bigger lie. The watch I now had in my possession was simply a piece of costume jewelry that my mom bought – a consolation prize of sorts.

So, now when I look at the watch, I think of my inheritance – a gift of generosity towards others and a family who knew never to squabble over things – that love was our most important gift.