It's gone. The bracelet my daddy brought back from the Great Southwest when I was a very little girl is gone. I don't have that many pieces of my past that go back that far...and now I have one less. Somewhere between South Restaurant in North Hills and JC Penny's, it disappeared, ironically right after my lunch mate admired it.
I was not as upset as I thought I should be so I waited two days, between calling restaurants and offices to check and see if it was found, to see if my usual delayed reaction appeared. I got a little more blue, sniffed, and moaned. Still nothing major. No national day of shrouded grief. No debilitating agony. What I did experience was pondering thoughts about those items in my life that would have caused an instantaneous thirty-day period of mourning. My wedding and engagement rings that have been on my fingers twenty-seven years as of next month. My husband lost his wedding band at the side of the road after having to reload an order of lumber. Fortunately it was found but the guy was in the kind of agony I both appreciated and forever after want to avoid. The black and white cameo ring that was the last thing my mother bought for me, as we strolled around an antique show in Asheville, NC, before her untimely death. I have always called it my magic ring because I put it on and it was a perfect fit. The necklace with the "Ask Seek, Knock" door charm that is more symbolic than a cross to me. Not much more than that.
We all think we won't survive when we lose the material things like jewelry or, worse, our homes. When we lose loved ones, it does feel unbearable. What we do not lose are the memories attached to those people and things. While there are days when that may seem like cold comfort, those memories become a part of our very essence, who we are, what we will become. That thought is what I like to think I have found this week, in the midst of loss.