My Mother's Ring

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