Valuable Reminders

I decided, shortly after Steve died, the only way I'd be able to face sorting through his things is if I sorted through all our things. The hope being that I wouldn't feel so overwhelmed with feelings of loss if I approached it as a chance to distribute items in general as opposed to only distributing Steve's items. Last night, meaning to go through some of my clothes, I sidetracked myself by sorting through my jewelry box and giving every piece a good cleaning.

When Steve and I had just started dating he told me a story about an ex-girlfriend. More than anything, she wanted a diamond tennis bracelet. So he saved up and bought one for Christmas. Instead of being ecstatic she complained continuously how, for the same amount of money, he could have gotten another carat worth of diamonds by shopping at a different store. I was appalled. I was taught to say thank you. And to mean it. Which is exactly what I told him. Steve said she wasn't worth the carat of diamonds he bought her.

Which lead to a discussion of jewelry in general. When Steve asked what I would want, in a perfect world with no boundaries, all I could come up with was a simple pair of pearl stud earrings to wear with the pearl necklace my mother had passed down to me a few years earlier. I couldn't fathom spending large amounts of imaginary money on sparkly diamonds. It seemed such a waste of resources. Imaginary resources.

It's important to know that Steve and I dated by phone for five months before we ever met face to face. Since he lived in New York and I lived in Virginia, our first real date lasted three days. When he showed up at my doorstep after an eight hour drive, he didn't have flowers. He arrived with a little navy blue box containing pearl stud earrings. I wore them at our wedding.

The next piece of jewelry Steve gave me was my engagement ring. Years later I found out Steve had cashed in part of his 401K to buy my ring. Whenever we spoke of our retirement savings, after I learned his little secret, I'd raise my hand in the air and wangle my finger. And though I gave him a hard time for how he financed the ring, I couldn't give him too hard a time because I also knew of his pride in having placed a beautiful ring on my finger.

The night before our wedding we snuck away from the crowd of family and friends for a little time to ourselves. In those quiet moments we exchanged our gifts to each other. I gave him a watch, a symbol to show I wanted to spend all my time with him. I still have his watch. I had some links removed and now wear it myself, since I don't have a watch of my own. He gave me diamond tennis bracelet. As he clasped it around my wrist he told me it was twice the carats of my ring. He also told me I'd better get used to diamonds because I was worth nothing less than their brilliant sparkle. In the years since our wedding Steve continued to buy me beautiful jewelry. Each time he gave it with a look of satisfaction on his face.

Like most women, I swap out my jewelry to match my mood and outfit. I have a lot of trendy little things I pick up at Target or Macy's that I like to mix in with the nice pieces Steve bought me. Since Steve died, I haven't worn the pieces passed down to me from my grandmother or mother, or even the little trinket pieces I've picked up for myself. In the past eight months I have only worn the jewelry Steve bought me. Steve spent ten years decorating me with golden reminders of how valuable he considered me. In the difficult moments, in those bleak winter months when I thought I couldn't make it through, his gifts prod me to keep moving forward. Sometimes I get so consumed in the pain and loss my love for him creates that I forget he loved me, too. Such sparkling reminders of his love.