A Ring of Forgotten Keys Unlocks My Nana’s Life

In May, I wrote a column about a bag of keys I found in my mom’s house. This is another story from that bag of keys.

A month after my mom died, I put a quart-sized bag of loose and ringed keys into my aunt’s hands. We began sorting through the loose keys and rings together. One set stood out: older keys on a worn black plastic key ring, still tagged with the name of a business my nana used to frequent in the 1970s.

They were the keys to my nana’s last apartment.

Being curious about that bag of keys didn’t just help me remember Nana’s cooking or humor. It reminded me of a turning point—a moment of disruption that brought Nana more fully into my life.