02-27-12
While getting ready this morning I decided to wear my
mother’s ring. Every time I put it on my
first thought is “I hope I don’t get mugged”
I don’t live in a town with a lot of crime or anything it is just that
it means so much to me.
I always have a little daymare of me getting held up by a
bad guy and he tries to take my ring or make me give it to him. In my fantasy I am always VERY tough and
basically tell the would-be villain that he will have to take it from my cold
dead hand if he is going to get it at all.
Sometimes there is even a physical fight (I always win).
The next thought is how and why I have the ring.
The Ring actually belonged to my grandmother, it was her
wedding ring set. When Grandma Polly
passed away the ring went to my mother.
It was the seventies ( I was 4)
as abstract was very popular, my mother had the gold melted and the
diamonds reset into an Abstract Pear design. The engagement part of the ring is
in the center and the smaller diamonds around it were in the wedding band
portion.
My Mother wore the ring a
lot in the seventies but as her life went forward she wore the ring less and
less.
In my mid to late twenties, I ask my mother for the
ring. My argument as to why I should
have it was plain and simple enough she NEVER wore it and I would.
I ask for it three or four times. I was given the same answer each time. “You can have it when I’m dead.” This just irked me so, she wasn’t wearing it,
didn’t wear it why couldn’t I have it?
But that was her answer (and her ring) that was that. I didn’t press
the issue too much but like I said, I did ask a few times.
On Friday July, 30, 1999 my mother lost her yearlong
battle with Ovarian Cancer she was 52 years old (11 months after I lost my
father to Leukemia he was 53).
I got busy remodeling mothers house: Mother moved into
the house when she was thirteen, with her mother, brother, and stepfather. My mother and I moved into the house when I
was 7years old (after her step father passed away) I moved into the house when
I was thirty two (my son was thirteen)
But I digress a bit.
Before I moved in I had several remodeling projects that I wanted
completed and used the money my mother left me to do it.
I was going to have all sorts of workers in and out of
the house. The work started and it
occurred to me that I should remove my mother’s jewelry box from her house and
take it to my apartment. Let me say that
removing my mother’s jewelry box from her home and moving it to mine was very
unnerving.
In my rational mind
I knew she was dead. This did not make
the removal any easier; I felt like a thief, but it had to be done and I did
it.
I would like to add here that I am glad I did. Several things from the house came up
missing. My mother’s change jar (that
was hidden in her closet) and her
mink were among the items that came up missing. (I am NOT a fur person, and she did love
animals but it was part of her generation to want one I think, and she got one,
in her forties. (She was VERY proud of it)
It was at least a year before I wore the ring the first
time. It was a holiday party I think and
I took it out. (I had the same little daymare that I described earlier) I didn’t wear it again for months and again it
was the same scenario
It was about two or three years before I could wear the
ring without feeling like I had stolen it. (I know I didn’t) I think it goes
without saying that if I could have the ring or have my mother what the answer
would be.
So Like I said to the would-be imaginary bandit. “you’ll
have to pry it from my cold dead hand” I
can’t help but wonder if maybe my mom didn’t have the same daymare when she
wore the ring, and maybe that’s why
she didn’t wear it that often, It was just too precious to chance.
A Dawn


