So when we visited my family in Denver last summer, my mother decided to give me her diamond ring. Our family has never had a lot of money, so precious jewels were of the oh-you’re-so-precious variety that we see in our children. But when my paternal grandmother died, she left a couple heirloom rings to me and a diamond to my mother that she labeled, “of no sentimental value.”
Well, my mom wasn’t a big fan of her mother-in-law either, and a diamond is a diamond! So my dad had it reset into a setting that fit her wedding band to make it her own. But my father died less than 2 years later, so she has since reset the ring. At any rate, for some reason or another she wanted me to be able to enjoy it and while the diamond has history, so does the current setting and I wanted to honor my mother by keeping it as is when I had it sized and cleaned a couple weeks ago.
My mom’s engagement ring – a single pearl; the Victorian era amethyst in rose gold that was my great-great-grandmother’s; the heart-shaped, sapphire studded ring from my grandmother… Each are beautiful in their own right, but are still more precious because of their histories, the stories carry.
You see, my family moved far from extended family, and there is some mystery about some of my heritage, so these stories are incredibly important to me – part blessing and part explanation of who I am.
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