After someone we love has died, life continues to move forward. And as odd as it seems sometimes, both our grief and our love come along as we move forward. Sometimes you might think — I need life to pause, even for a little while, so I can make sense of my loss and gather my thoughts and feelings. But it doesn’t. Life keeps moving forward.
If you’re grieving, you probably know that it’s not easy to go on when you’re feeling the pain of loss and the absence of your loved one. Yet, that is the challenge of grieving: To heal as you go forward. At the same time, it is our task to find ways to carry the love for our loved ones and their story with us.
Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are quickly approaching. Summer weddings, babies being born, birthdays, anniversaries… they’re all beautiful events and yet they can feel conflicted and painful for you who are grieving. So, what do you do? How do you negotiate the holidays and milestones? Do you ignore them, or do you find ways to have your deceased loved one be present, remembered, and honored? It softens the edges of pain to have their spirit and memories present, almost like they are still here.
The following story was written by a widower whose beloved wife died nine years ago. It beautifully illustrates how he and his adult children are moving forward with Life while finding ways to honor her, love her and share an important story of her life.
My son Evan got engaged this weekend. The occasion included a symbol that everyone could identify: an engagement ring. But to me, that ring with its brilliant diamond was much more than a symbol.
About 25 years ago, my wife Sandy told me, as she had for years, that she dreamed about owning a set of diamond earrings. At that point we were young, just starting out, and the luxury of diamond earrings was just not realistic. But for whatever reason this wish seemed more personal to her than most of the other things she wished for, and so it became a personal dream for me, as well.
As a family we used to spend every summer in New York, and this long-ago summer was not going to be any different — except for one thing. It turns out that I had a friend whose grandfather was a diamond dealer in New York City. I was determined to make sure this was the year Sandy got her earrings. So I called my friend’s grandfather and explained what I was doing and told him we were coming to New York that following summer and asked him to find a set of diamonds we could use for her earrings. I told him I had two requirements: The diamonds had to be flawless and they had to be white stones with unsurpassed brilliance. I made it clear that these earrings were very special and that the purchase was fueled by 10 years of dreams. He promised to put all his effort and care into finding the right stones.
Summer came and we as a family set off for New York. It was a hot and humid day in July and we were navigating the city with our four- and six-year-old boys. None of us were particularly happy. I remember turning down 43rd street as we passed this old building with no markings on the outside and breaking away from Sandy and the boys. I turned right and opened this old heavy door to a nondescript older building. Sandy looked at me like I was nuts and said, “Where are you going?” I told her that I knew someone in the building and wanted to go say hello and cool off in his office. She said OK and followed me with our exhausted kids in tow behind her.
I distinctly remember the ornamental ceiling that looked like it had been painted over 100 times and the old metal banister used to help you navigate the steps that would never pass building codes today. I told her that he was on the second floor, so we continued climbing with our kids in tow. Finally, we reached the brown door of unit number 201.
I knocked on the door and the buzzer sounded to let us into a large, air-conditioned room. (I had secretly called five minutes earlier to tell him we were coming up.) When we walked into the room, my friend’s grandfather was standing behind the counter looking exactly as I had imagined. He was a thin, old man with a sparse white beard, wearing a kippah. Standing next to him was his wife, who was a little heavy and wearing a modest kerchief on her head.
When he saw me, he said “Harry, I presume?” I could see Sandy staring at me with a look that said, “What is going on here?”
With that we walked closer to the counter, and I said, “Yes, and this is my wife.” With that, he smiled as he pulled out a small blue tissue paper neatly folded into a square. He put it on the glass counter and slowly and deliberately unfolded the paper to reveal two beautiful diamonds with blinding brilliance. Sandy looked at me and said, “What the hell is this?” I said, “Today is the day you finally get those diamond earrings.”
I looked at Sandy and watched her eyes tear up. She stayed composed until she couldn’t hold it in any longer and began to cry uncontrollably. All she could say between breaths was, “Is this for real? Really? For me?”
Evan was six years old and became concerned seeing his mom crying like that and said, “Mom, what’s wrong?” With that, Sandy picked up the blue tissue paper with the diamonds and showed them to Evan. “I’m crying because daddy bought mommy a beautiful present and I’m crying because I’m happy.” I remember he touched them as Sandy handed them back so that they could be placed in the settings that would become her favorite, precious earrings.
Years later, Sandy left us to find her place in heaven, leaving the earrings behind. At some point I put those earrings into a baggie and placed them into the safe.
About six weeks ago, Evan came to me and said, “Dad, I’m going to ask Anna to marry me.” I was ecstatic. We all love Anna and could see how well they fit together. He told me he didn’t want to buy a ring, he wanted to design one that would be one of a kind and have a special meaning to him. With that I told him I had an idea. I told him to open the safe. When he did, guess what fell out. Evan picked it up and just stared at that same pair of earrings that Sandy showed him over 20 years ago. He did design that ring and it was designed so that front and center is that very stone that Evan touched as mom explained why that diamond made her cry from happiness.
So, although people see an engagement ring, I see something very different. Although Sandy may not be here for the mother-son dance at the wedding, a part of her will be there in plain sight. That’s not just a diamond set in that ring. It’s a legacy, a memory that will be with Evan long after the singing and dancing end. Take another look and you might see it as well.
How will you share your loved one’s story? How will you carry them with you?