I decided to go through my jewelry box today, mostly to get rid of the crap I'd had since junior high that is tarnished and outdated, such as the silver horse ring I used to wear on my thumb. And the hemp seed and bead choker I wore for years, which in my mind proudly proclaimed "I'm a stoner!"
Then I cam across a little hand-knitted bag, cinched with a cute little ribbon and in it I found 2 wedding rings. One is white gold, with a tiny diamond. The other, a plain gold band.
One from each of my grandmothers.
I was always touched that they gave me their wedding rings. I always appreciated it. But I never thought about why they gave them to me.
Why me?
One had 4 granddaughters, one grandson. The other has 2 granddaughters, 3 grandsons. And they BOTH chose me. Unknowingly. The were given to me years apart, so I know neither knew the other gave me their ring.
When Oma died, I wore her gold band on a chain around my neck, under my shirt, to her funeral. Somehow, my cousin knew I had it on, and asked to touch it. I felt insanely guilty and the brief question arose. Why me? But in my grief, I didn't give it much more thought.
Now years later, I really started to wonder.
I know both my grandmothers love/loved their grandkids equally. I have no doubt of that.
Today, running my finger tips over their cherished possessions, I felt completely undeserving and incredibly special all at once.
If someone were to ask what I was most proud of, I would say those rings.