Yes, I chose that title on purpose.
When I was in high school everyone (at the gym) started calling me Jewels. I didn't care for that. I changed it to Julez. The z meant that I couldn't be associated with family jewels in the meaning that you probably thought when you saw the title. But still, here we are. It may have occurred to you that I haven't posted anything in a while. My mind, heart, and emotions have been struggling the last few weeks. I lost a good friend of mine two Saturdays ago. It was a roller coaster - she wouldn't do it any other way. We found out a few months ago that she had cancer. Treatments came and went. Surgery took place. They saw just how much of her was covered in cancer. And though we are aching here on Earth, we are so glad she is out of pain. Last week, I lost my grandmother. I have been very close to her. The hurt is different and the same all at the same time. She hasn't been doing well lately, I think we all were becoming more prepared. It still doesn't take away the sting completely. Through the past year and a half, she has been downsizing. That means that a good deal of items have been trickling into my home. Some of it was given by her, others by my mother. Very few things have been items that I looked at and said, "I would like to have this." A few weeks ago that changed. My sister-in-law and I have gone through all of her costume jewelry and taken what we each wanted. For some reason, though I recently thought about my grandmother's family ring. I thought, "I want her family ring." Immediately, selfishness came over me, but I thought about what it meant to me. When I was little, my grandfather gave my grandmother this ring. It was simple. It had a stone for each family members birth month. My grandfather was born in October. That stone is rose. My grandmother was born in February, amethyst. My mother was born in September which is sapphire. Together those three are quite pretty. Then came my father, also September. My mom was an only child so that made things easier. My brother came next, also in October. And then there's me. Being a rule follower and enjoying order and patterns, I came in February. I remember the times I stared at that ring. Two blues, two pinks, two purples. But they weren't in a pattern that I could decipher and it drove me nuts! Still, It was a beautiful ring. When I was 12, my grandfather passed. That ring meant even more to my grandmother than it had before. It was as if she never took it off. That is, until the day she lost it. After he passed, my grandmother moved to Massachusetts to be near us. The move was in the works while he was alive, but things changed and she ended up alone. It took a few years before she lost it, but she did. And she was distraught. Her condo was turned upside down looking for that week. She retraced steps to no avail. This is where I love my grandmother. She decided that her family ring meant so much to her that she went out and bought herself a new one! The pattern was different, but the six stones were there. That's all she cared about, her family. And that second ring, well, it was ordered in a way that made sense. There was a pattern. So it helped me a bit as well. As months passed, winter came around once again. My grandmother was getting ready to head out somewhere. She put on a pair of gloves, and there, found her first ring! Let's face it, the dittziness of not checking gloves just cracks me up. That is so my grandmother. She became the owner of two family rings. My grandmother is the final grandparent passing in my life. When my father's parents passed in October and November of 2010, I was pregnant with my son. There was a lot going on in my life. And as I mourned their loss, I mourned surrounded by a dozen aunts and uncles, and countless cousins. When my friend passed two weeks ago, I was surrounded by so many of her friends and family of hers. There was collective mourning with those. With my grandmother, it feels so different because there are so few of us. She was loved by all who met her, there is no doubt of that, but her circles weren't as big as those like my other grandparents, or even my friend. When she passed I finally told my mother that I wanted one of the rings. It doesn't matter which, just one. For me, the ring is a memory of the first gift she received. It's the story of her losing it in a glove. It's her need to replace it, and keep her family visible. As I look at the stones, I get to see my family. A lot has changed since there were six stones established. We've gained six more with marriage and children of our own and, now, lost two. Am I selfish? Maybe. But right now, I just need to make sure I keep my memories of the loving woman I call Grandma.
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May 2023
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