It's funny how special a piece of jewellery can become. How many memories & emotions can end up contained within.
Around this time last year, my gorgeous grandmother's health started to fail. She was with us until the summer, but as the cold has gripped the Capital, it's reminded me of the time I started facing up to the fact that I probably wouldn't have her in my life for much longer. When she died, she left me her beautiful amnethyst ring. She'd gone on for 20-odd years about how she wanted me to have it. After her funeral, I had it resized for my little finger and haven't taken it off since.
Sometimes, it reminds me that she's gone. Most times it reminds me how wonderful she was.
Around the time my grandma passed away my uncle was diagnosed with cancer. More bad news. He put up a sterling fight, and a brave face, but I knew the way my dad broke the news that there was only ever going to be one outcome.
This morning, I popped on my heart ring. A big fat hunk o' bling that was very kindly given to me when I married my husband (again - long story) in Las Vegas. I don't wear it every day, but when I do it sits proudly next to my wedding ring, reminding me of love and laughter and happy times. And family.
I'm glad I was wearing it today, when my dad called to say that his brother had lost his battle with (as the lovely Lisa Lynch would put it) The Bullshit.
And from now on whenever I wear this ring, I'll think of Uncle T too. A jolly little guy with a wicked sense of humour and a reet big heart.