The Price Of Gold, My Priceless Piece
The price of gold has been wobbly the last couple of months, probably due mostly to people (rightfully so) freaking out about the economy. In my world, my MOTHER’S gold will always be priceless and you’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead body before I’d sell it. This isn’t meant to be a depressing blog by any means. It’s meant to be a reminder to myself and others that when we lose someone we love, there will always be something you CAN take with YOU. For some, wonderful, funny memories are all they have. And that should be enough. (I know it would be for me.)
In my case, my “piece” is made of gold. I lost my mother a few years ago and I think of her every single day. My friend just lost her father and I can only imagine how many times per day she thinks of him. They were very close and it reminds me of my relationship with my own father, who by the way is the only family I have left on the planet.
Back to “the piece”.
My dad was always very good to my mom when it came to jewelry. Smart guy. That’s probably why they stayed married. One piece in particular will always remind me of my mom because it rarely left her neck: the beautiful Credit Suisse bar that you see in the picture. Now it never leaves my neck. Seriously. Along with the much smaller gold chain that my mom gave me when I was eight years old, you’ll never find me without this chunk of gold around my neck.
That necklace means more to me than anything. It goes with me everyday on my journeys and battles. Some people ask “What Would Jesus Do?” I’m definitely not that person, but I AM the person who asks “What Would My Mom Do?” Then I find myself subconsciously fiddling with that necklace.
Maybe if my mom was an artist my “piece” would be a painting. Maybe if my mom was a writer my “piece” would be a book. It wouldn’t matter. As normal human beings, we shouldn’t be ashamed to have that one thing that we keep close as a security blanket. It’s OK and in my humble opinion: Do what you gotta do to get through it.
And by the way….if my mom’s necklace was made of tin, you’d still have to pry it from my cold, dead body. -Michelle