My Grandmother's Chandelier

Today we had an electrician install a new light fixture in my dining room. No, not new, actually. It's very old. My grandmother's chandelier hung in my parents' dining room since she passed away thirty years ago - until my folks sold their house a few months ago. The new owner said she was modernizing and asked if they wanted it. They posed that question to me. It didn't seem all that important at the time except the one I had in my dining room was modern and had shades - UGH! Totally not my style. So I agreed. They had it shipped a thousand miles and it arrived without even a broken bulb.
Now that it's up, I'm so glad I got it. I have tons of things from my grandmother - she and I were very close. But there's something about this chandelier that touches me where most of the other pieces don't.
The electrician complained. The wires were old and had no ground. (We'll have to get it rewired). The bulbs were so old we'd never be able to find exact replacements. The gold was dirty and showed years of neglect. I shined it up and dusted off his comments. I love it. Every time I turn it on I can almost hear my grandmother's voice, feel her arms around me. I suddenly remembered things, like the birthmark on her hand, the smell of the Channel Christalle perfume she loved, the way she'd watch the dance moves and songs I'd made up and tell me how wonderful they were.
I'm so happy to have her light shining.