Family Heirlooms

I told mum I hadn’t been in the attic. That was a lie. I don’t know if I’ll ever decide if it was the right decision, part of me is relieved I know the truth, but I would have been a completely different person had I never known. Some people feel that when it comes to knowing your family history less is more, I chose the path where more is more. And yes, before you ask, it was my choice. Mine and mine alone. But then simply saying don’t do it doesn’t give you any sort of warning does it. It’s too absolute. Know nothing or know everything.

I don’t know if mum really knew what was up there. Perhaps she didn’t because she had made her choice all those years ago and that’s why she couldn’t give me that informed guidance my decision lacked. I think I’d like to keep that as my view on her position because knowing what was up there changed me and knowing that she knew would change her, in my mind.

Maybe she knew I knew, we never talked about it right up until the day she died. Perhaps it was for the best we never talked about it after that. But now it’s my job to manage the secret of what’s in the attic and what do I say. I’m not sure I can describe what’s up there, let alone the how and the why. But knowing will change you and you knowing will change me, in your mind.

So maybe I’ll leave it to you and tell you not to go into the attic. Ever. Just promise me that. Please.