My maternal grandparents were very dear to me. They raised a small family on their dairy farm in central Kentucky. There wasn't a huge estate to pass on to their children, although they did leave a rich inheritance.
The Last Supper hangs in our dining room, and reminds me of them and of those many times we had around their table in The Farm Days. It's really just a cheap, fragile hanging, but it connects me with memories that are priceless. You see, Grandma didn't switch up the decorations or move anything around. Once she acquired something she liked, she placed it and it stayed. After all, there were more pressing issues to deal with on the farm than redecorating. By neglecting those 'improvements', simple household objects were transformed into touchstones of permanence and memory for her family.
I was allowed to have this Last Supper picture after both of my grandparents had passed away. There are many other touchstones that went out to family members as treasures: the spoon jar, a tiny bookcase with books that never changed - Grandpa's going-to-town hat, a generous cane bottomed rocking chair, the fruit bowl picture, the sewing basket ...
In the constant ebb of our home, I'm trying to follow her example and leave a few things exactly where they are. For good.