There’s a story to this necklace. I’ve worn it quite often since the 19th of April, the day my mama died. The pearl and opal drop was a gift from my children, one Christmas, over a decade ago. The small ring was on my mother’s finger until just a few hours before her death, when I gently twisted it off and dropped it into my pocket. I knew it would not be long now, her breathing was labored, her cheeks were sinking. And I wanted that precious ring in a safe place, somewhere far away from death and dying. I wanted it as close to my own beating heart as I could get it. So it went on the chain, next to the gift from my children.
That seemed fitting to me, an inclusio, a circle of life, if you will. A continuation of the line, a union of my beginning and my continuation, a reminder that we belong to one another, even across that final demarcation line called death. My mother is forever and always a part of me and a part of my children and my grandchildren. Somehow, keeping the gift from my children and the gift from my mother connected is important to my own story, to my understanding of who I am and how I, too, will be remembered some day.
I also happen to find if beautiful.
Yes, a beautiful necklace and a beautiful connection.
Blessings, Diana!
Thanks, Martha.
A wonderful ode to family, memories, kindred spirit connections.
Visiting because of Martha’s lovely invitation over at my place, Diana!
How kind of Martha! And thanks for dropping by, Linda.
It is beautiful, Diana. For months after my parents passed, I wore their wedding bands and gave me a sense of closeness with them. But after nearly losing my daddy’s after it slipped off one day and RA made it difficult to get my mother’s off and on, I stopped. I should get a chain for them. It’s comforting, isn’t it? So lovely, Diana.
It is comforting, in ways I do not completely understand. My dad’s ring had to be cut off of his finger when he had open heart surgery at age 69. For the last 18 years of his life, he wore no ring and that always made me sad.