Two of the rings that I now wear once adorned my mom's hands. One was given to her by my oldest brother and the other by me. The one I gave her has a bit of history. I was married once before, but it only lasted 15 months. About 15 years after the divorce, I took the engagement and wedding rings and had them remade into another setting. I wore it for awhile until my second husband decided he didn't like the idea of me wearing diamonds given to me by another man. Fair enough, so I gave it to Mom. In addition to the rings from my brother and me, my sister also gave Mom a diamond ring. Each of us seemed to be compensating for or recreating Mom's engagement ring that became so thin, it broke about 50 years ago. She had always talked about either getting it fixed or getting another one. Money was always tight when we were growing up, and Mom never felt she could splurge on such a personal item. Once my siblings and I were older, we decided to do the splurging. I guess in a way that means we were all engaged and committed to Mom.
When Mom passed, the funeral director asked which jewelry pieces we would like for the viewing, and which pieces we would like back. We asked for the rings except for her wedding band. That ring had never left her finger in almost 63 years, and that's where it will stay forever. I'm wearing the two rings now, even the one that I gave her. My husband is okay w/ it. Mom cleansed it of any curse or bad vibes. They're beautiful rings, but I'd surrender them in a heartbeat if it would bring Mom back. Guess that's what's meant by the bargaining stage of grief.
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