Mom's Photo

I've kept this photo handy with the intention to scan it for months now.  I was going to wait to post it closer to Christmas, but then yesterday,  on Thanksgiving, an acquaintance of mine died.  I was sad for her kids, and in a way Julie died on an anniversary I was not celebrating--the 20th anniversary of my mom's death.  I am still so thankful for Mom, so I scanned the picture and included it on facebook as part of my month of thankfulness status posts.  It just seemed like the right day to do so.

My mom died suddenly on November 28, 1991--technically the anniversary is on Monday. But that year it was on a Thursday, and it was also about an hour or so into Thanksgiving.  So you can see why Julie's death was, well, familiar to me.  We opted to meet as a family that day, to not spread the news because though we were in great shock, we didn't want to bruise any other hearts on a day devoted to joy.

But that's not what I'm writing about today, not really.

Today I'm writing about a ring.  I'm writing about this particular photograph.

My mom gained weight throughout her marriage to my dad.  She had to stop wearing her wedding set because it no longer fit.  She didn't trust jewelers, but then my friend Gerry started working for one. So, in 1989,  my dad and I sneaked her ring set to Gerry to be resized, and my dad also bought my mom an anniversary band--one that I picked out, that's how he shopped!

The photo is of her opening the box with the band.  The wedding set came next.  She loved them both, and she wore them for almost two years--the wedding set on her left hand, the gold and diamond band on her right.  When she died, my sister got my mom's wedding set, and I was gifted with the anniversary band.  I had it sized and wore it on my right ring finger until I met Brad.

When we decided to get married, I asked him if I could wear it as my wedding band, and when he agreed, silver-loving me went out with him looking for a yellow gold engagement ring.  Solitaire found, we announced our engagement.

My left ring finger is more slender than my right, so the band had to be resized again. When we took it to the very same jeweler, we were told it was too fragile after 16 years of daily wear to amend to that degree.  So I had to pick out a new band.

I selected something similar, and we ordered it.  When we returned to pick up the new ring, it was pretty, but it wasn't Mom's.  They gave me the carcass of her old ring in a tiny plastic bag, and I walked away from the counter and wept by a corner display.

You have to know me.  I don't cry much over "stuff," but this really upset me.  Getting married to a lovely man without either of my parents was hard, and I think this just pushed me over the bridal edge--though in every other way I was a completely laid back bride.

That Christmas, 2007, I opened my gifts and found that Brad had taken a piece of jewelry he owned and extracted diamonds from it.  He took the carcass of Mom's ring back to the store and had them fashion the old ring into two earrings that hold those stones. Again, I found myself crying over "stuff," but this time I cried happy tears.

There's no picture of me with my earrings from that morning, and I'm not going to take one for this post.  But I am going to tell you that 20 years after her death, I carry my mom with me.  I think of her daily.  I talk about her all the time.  And I know she would approve of the soft-hearted man I married.

I also know she'd be really mad at me for posting her photo (in her housecoat!) for all to see.