When my paternal grandmother passed away, my father sat me down. His expression was serious–But I knew already that the conversation would be serious: family discussions always happened in mom and dad’s bedroom, each of us perched on the edge of the bed, as if we may at any moment jump up and start pacing. My father held out a small box. “Your grandmother left this to you,” he said and handed it to me. I opened the box to find her diamond engagement ring tucked within its velvet cushion. Shocked, I asked “why me?” I was not the only granddaughter; nor was I the oldest or the youngest. I was rather random in the line of succession. Yet she picked me. “You don’t have to wear it as an engagement ring if you don’t want to,” my dad continued. “But it’s yours. Her only stipulation was that you not sell it.” Even as he was speaking, certainty formed in my mind: I wanted the ring. I wanted to wear it someday as my own engagement band. No doubt in my mind. Today, I cherish this simple little solitaire diamond. I wear it everyday. Even though it doesn’t have any earth-shattering antique value, I cherish it more than any other possession or heirloom. Maybe because of the original wedding date inscribed inside it’s band. Maybe because of the love it now represents between my husband and I. Or maybe just because out of everyone, she picked me.
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When my paternal grandmother passed away, my father sat me down. His expression was serious–But I knew already that the conversation would be serious: family discussions always happened in mom and dad’s bedroom, each of us perched on the edge of the bed, as if we may at any moment jump up and start pacing. My father held out a small box. “Your grandmother left this to you,” he said and handed it to me. I opened the box to find her diamond engagement ring tucked within its velvet cushion. Shocked, I asked “why me?” I was not the only granddaughter; nor was I the oldest or the youngest. I was rather random in the line of succession. Yet she picked me. “You don’t have to wear it as an engagement ring if you don’t want to,” my dad continued. “But it’s yours. Her only stipulation was that you not sell it.” Even as he was speaking, certainty formed in my mind: I wanted the ring. I wanted to wear it someday as my own engagement band. No doubt in my mind. Today, I cherish this simple little solitaire diamond. I wear it everyday. Even though it doesn’t have any earth-shattering antique value, I cherish it more than any other possession or heirloom. Maybe because of the original wedding date inscribed inside it’s band. Maybe because of the love it now represents between my husband and I. Or maybe just because out of everyone, she picked me.