Photo by Kenneth Surillo on

I was thinking of nothing in particular yesterday.  My mind wandered aimlessly through thoughts about work and home.  My morning mental list of menial tasks grew rapidly as I sat, gazing at my hands, folding my fingers, deciding where to begin.

Then my eyes focused on the ring; my grandmother’s ring.  The diamond sparkled, surrounded by yellow gold, and I was mesmerized for a few quiet moments.  How long had it been now?  A year and a half?  No, it had to be over two years now since the funeral.  “Time moves too quickly,” I thought.  I studied her wedding ring for a few minutes, looking at the details, turning it on my finger.  I had been wearing it on my right hand now for almost two years, and I found that it gave me a kind of quiet comfort.  I recognized that as the days rolled by, a cursory glance at the ring brought me peace, kept me grounded, and reminded me of the unending circular, spiritual, eternal parts of life.

Grandma.  She was important to me, and her ring had become a reminder that the important things are not things.  The true diamonds in our lives are people.  I pulled the ring from my hand and turned it over, taking in its smooth round shape, its beauty, its quality and its sturdiness.  The ring had endured my grandmother’s labors.  She canned beans and kneaded bread.  She washed clothes, and cleaned, and gardened.  Oh, how she loved to garden!  Her flowerbeds thrived under her care.  If only this ring would bestow the power of that green thumb!

I smiled and continued my inspection.  It was a simple design with the diamond set inside a smooth square of gold.  The wedding band and the engagement ring had been soldered together for comfort and convenience.  I held it between my two hands and called forth the image of this ring on her bony fingers.  I could still see her hands.

For no particular reason, I did not return the ring to my right hand, as was my habit.  Instead, I passed it to my left hand, gave a little push, and placed it on the finger next to my own wedding band.  Why not wear it there?  Now there were two gold rings sitting side by side, gleaming in the light, “keeping each other company,” it seemed.

A few hours later, I learned that Grandma’s sister left us that very morning.  Aunt Opal.  She had always been a sweet spirit, a jewel among women.  I realized that I had passed Grandma’s ring from one hand to the other- not knowing that here, too, passed the spirit of her sister.

Now, they are keeping each other company, in the never ending presence of God.  Now, I know that Grandma’s ring will continue its work.  It is a remembrance of God, family, and eternal love.  The important things are not things.  Jewels will pass from one hand to another, but the true diamonds are the people who touch our hearts.

Somehow, yesterday, my heart recognized well before my mind that Opal had passed from one realm to another.  Something important happened yesterday.  Someone important moved on.  And, somehow, the heart always knows.

By JB Morris- Poems, Prose, and Possibilities- mostly about life, sometimes about God, with brief interludes concerning shoe addiction.

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