revised narrative
Sitting in my jewelry box tangled in thick and thin chains of gold, large dangling earrings, and a few silver watches, is a small engagement ring and thin gold wedding band that were later fused together and made into one ring. With a modest fleck of diamond on top, it is small and humble. This ring was meant for someone with fingers much smaller than mine yet waits among my belongings until the next time I wear it around my neck for a special occasion, or just for a day when I need some comfort. For many years before I was even born, it was worn by my grandmother and now that it is mine its worm golden shine reflects memories that exceed beyond a superficial possession.
When I was younger, summers meant that my mother’s parents, Mommom and Poppop, were going to visit from Florida, or we were going to take a 22 hour road trip down there. When my they came to visit us in New Jersey they would arrive with their little rolling suitcases which they would take up to my room where they stayed usually for two weeks. This meant that I sleep on a tiny cot in my parents room but they had television in their room and so I was allowed to stay up late with my parents. When my grandparents stayed over it seemed like everything was a little different.
Early in the morning, when usually nothing got done, my Poppop was out in the garden digging huge holes to plant bushes that my mom forgot to water once he left. Late at night my MomMom and mom would did laundry and talked for hours and hours. I used to say “You never pay attention to me when Mommom’s around. ” I was jealous, but now that I’m older I understand.
In those summers when we went down to Florida, my little brother and I took all of our blankets and pillows and turned the car seats into beds. They were like our mini mobile homes for a few days. Sometimes our trips would coincide with Christmas. We’d help set up the small artificial tree, stringing on rainbow colored lights and red shiny Christmas balls. The tree was actually white in color that the reflection from the lights and metallic ornaments would fill the whole room with light. The warmth and glistening light given off by this tree is the same gives me the same feeling that I get when a wear my grandmothers ring. It reminds me of this night that my brother and I shared exclusively with my grandparents.
Another night that resonates in my memory is the night we went to church, just the three girls: my grandmother, my mother, and myself. We sat all the way in the back mezzanine so that we had view of the entire church. When the preacher was done with his sermon, the lights dimed and everyone lit their candles. Tiny little gleaming dots flickered over a huge auditorium while the church choir sang Christmas carols. The songs echoed through this massive room of people, each and every one with their candle lending to the sea of lights. I had my own candle and my mom looked at me, smiling, and we were all together.
There are a lot of short vivid memories that float around in my head. Me sitting on my Poppop’s lap and him singing “I love you a bushel and a peck.” Or of listening to my mom on the phone late at night asking my Mommom for advice. Large red Hibiscus flowers grew outside their house in Florida and every morning my Poppop would pick one and leave it in the kitchen for my Mommom. Often chickity birds would gather outside and my Mommom would watch them, and later so did my Mom.
There is one memory that I will never forget, the look in my Poppops eyes the day of her funeral. Family was so important; and even though at the time I was young and numb to what was going on it has stayed with me. My Bubbe and aunt on the other side of my family were there and I remember thinking that it was odd to see both sides of my family in one room. But they were all family and linked in a way that I never realized before.
All funerals are sad but for some reason that’s not how I look back on it. People talked, cried, sang, and laughed, about who she was, the kind, sweet, loving soul of my Mommom. The entire funeral while people spoke, I pictured her smiling and listening. In my mind she was happy to be hearing all of these things. I didn’t know her the way other people did and every time someone got up to speak it was like seeing a different side of her. And she had always planned on giving me that ring.
While she was sick and skinny, and slowly drifting away from pancreatic cancer, she was prepared. She knew what everyone was going to get, and even bought her funeral dress without anyone even knowing. Before our last trip to Florida she went through her all of her things and told my mom that this wedding ring would be mine. I had actually never seen it before because her fingers had grown and she was no longer able to wear. It’s even too small for me to wear but she gave it to me knowing that it was something that I would really appreciate. And now I still have it years later as a connection to her spirit and to all my memories of us and the family.
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