a writing by Nancy Ellen Crossland

My maternal grandmother passed away in 1983 just one month before my youngest son was born. How I wish he had known her. Among her personal items that I inherited after my mother's passing sixteen years ago, was my grandmother's wedding ring. I had placed it in a little velvet box and just had forgotten about it.

A short time ago I ran across it. Taking it out of the box I noticed that the inside was gold - marked 18K gold, yet the exterior was worn from age and all the gold was gone. Now it was silver. I have been wearing that ring on my middle finger, as it is quite large. Since that moment I placed it upon my finger, I experienced flashbacks of my dear grandmother. Grandma crocheting, her hands in circular motions, her ring reflecting the light. I feel those years of cooking, baking her strudel and all those holiday meals. She never removed that ring. I feel her hands around me with hugs, see them when she played cards with friends. Thought of all those times she comforted her own children, husband and friends when they needed it the most.

I see her hands clasped in prayer, holding her little prayerbook from Yugoslavia that she had since she was a young girl. I see her fingering her rosary reverently. I see her hands once smooth and once youthful become transparent with veins and knotted from arthritis. Yet always, always feel her love. I especially feel her close to me touching me with her wonderful memories.

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