The Locket


A woman wears her tears like jewelry.  ~Author Unknown

Mom placed the locket around my neck. I hadn’t worn it since I was 17 years old. She and I opened it. We looked at the sepia toned photos inside. Grandpa Howard, a man I never met and Grandma Mable, a woman that I will never forget. Grandpa drowned before I was born and Grandma, she died in her late 80’s after walking the Mackinaw Bridge on Labor Day.

Whenever I visit Mom at her home Up North, I ask her for a piece of jewelery. Most of the time I’m joking. I know she doesn’t want to part with any of the pieces in her collection. She has some beautiful antique jewelry that belonged to many women in my family. I know the pieces mean a lot to her. The home that she lived in a few years ago had been broken into at least twice during the 20 years that she lived there. Of course the thieves always took the jewelry first.

Her collection had been hit hard by those robberies. A few years ago my Grandma Bobbie died. Mom has slowly but surely acquired my grandmother’s prized jewelry. Family issues have made it hard for her to obtain all of the items that she should have. It isn’t fair that she doesn’t have all them. But then death makes some people act peculiarly about the possessions of the deceased.

Today my mother and I were getting ready for the day and of course I jokingly asked for a piece of her jewelry. I don’t know why I always ask such a silly question. I don’t really want any of it because it belongs to her. However, we rummaged through a box and she brought out my Grandma Bobbie’s locket. She placed it around my neck and said that it now belonged to me. I hugged her, gave her a kiss and told her thank you. Then I told her I loved her.

It is now my prized possession. I will treasure it always. Until it is my time to pass it on to one of my children.