I grew up around my grandparents. My mom’s parents and my dad’s mom lived close, and we saw them often. It was wonderful to have them nearby: I had two homes-away-from-home where I knew I belonged; where there were adults other than my parents ready to play with me, cook with me, and as I got older, just talk with me.
Of course, they won’t be around forever. Nobody will. It’s getting to the point that my paternal grandma’s health is failing, and we are preparing ourselves for the what comes next. To ease into the process, my aunt and I are sorting through things in her basement which we will divide among family members or let go when the time comes.
My grandma and I have a lot common, and one thing is jewelry. When she was well she always wore jewelry: funky rings, bangle bracelets, big hoop earrings. She’s one of the quirkiest grandmas I’ve met, wearing high heels, black cut-off t-shirts, and string bikinis with her old fashioned swimming cap well into her 70’s.
Years ago, we started a project together: cataloguing her jewelry and the stories behind each piece. I learned about my great-grandmother Nell’s sapphire engagement ring, which she stepped on once and had to get fixed. And my great-grandmother Helen’s emerald and sapphire dinner rings (only appropriate with evening attire at that time) one of which got lost in turkey stuffing and was later found!
Recently I went to my grandma’s to organize her jewelry boxes and see what I could match to my list of stories. To my dismay, I couldn’t find some of the family rings: her engagement ring to my grandfather, Nell’s rings, and Helen’s rings. We may never know for sure what happened to them, and I’m really sad. Those rings have family history, and their stories make me feel close to our family, close to what makes us, us. (Thankfully, Nell’s and my grandma’s weddings rings remain, with inscriptions. My great-grandparents were married in 1926!)
I’m a minimalist: I like having only 33 pieces in my closet, keeping only the books I love, keeping my mementos and knickknacks to a minimum. I believe that when we don’t have things it’s because we don’t need them. I don’t need more rings. I don’t need certain objects to feel close to my grandma.
Yet though I know letting go is important, it’s hard! It makes me sad that those family items are missing. Sometimes we choose to donate or re-give our things. Other times, the decisions is made for us.
I recently heard a story about a family across country and stopping in Las Vegas. While there, their Penske truck (and in it all their possessions) was stolen. All they had was the stroller and a small suitcase of clothes. Such a traumatic experience puts the loss of rings into perspective.
Some things are precious, and sometimes we have no choice but to let them go. What treasured items have you had to let go?
(photo source here)
