Only Love

It was an unanticipated quandary,

The shocking news that the one item of family memorabilia had a “worth” was totally unexpected,

Traveling back in time, once with all the hubris of youth, I had described “money’ as having no importance, “Only love matters,” I blithely remarked.

Grace, my wise and worldly friend looked at me, shook her head and spoke:

“You will learn.”

And of course, I did and have (although it took a long time to relinquish some beliefs).

When the time eventually arrived to claim some part of the matriarchal King family estate, I chose not to. I have never regretted that decision, but in later years wished I had requested a token, an item, to remind me of those who had departed.

However, I had totally forgotten one gift that I had received on my 15th birthday, It was a family memento from my maternal aunt and three uncles. None had ever married, and my two sisters and I were the only descendants of their once large family, It was my understanding that the gift had once belonged to their beloved Mother, “Marm.”

The delicate ring was lovely, but ornate. While I was appreciative, I seldom wore it, choosing rather the traditional school ring of the day

Decades later I presented it to my only and favorite daughter on her 15th birthday.

Earlier this year, the long forgotten ring was returned to me, My thoughtful daughter believed one of her twin nieces might appreciate an heirloom from the female ancestor they had never known and whose dramatic story I have often told,

While the two young ladies were appreciative and grateful, neither wanted the ring. That was when I decided it belonged to the next female in line, Hannah, a granddaughter residing in CA.

Before the delicate piece of jewelry was sent on its journey across country, a friend mentioned an appraisal was in order because the item was close to 200 years old.

Her viewpoint was the antique ring might have a great deal of worth.

That created a controversy for me, If the ring was worth more than I had anticipated, I would feel obligated to sell it and share the profit with all the female descendants of my Mother’s family,

I knew instantly I would and could not exclude the two eldest granddaughters who had removed themselves emotionally from my world.

Yet it was an enigma.

There has been no contact for a long time, fifteen years to be exact. And while the pain doesn’t dissipate, scar tissue does eventually form and the reality and yes, tragedy of loss becomes an accepted pain of daily living.

I knew neither young woman would welcome me if I rippled their serene world, and I dreaded and feared more rejection.

Yet, I knew what I would do if the projected appraisal was accurate. They would share in the unexpected inheritance.

This week I received my answer. The ring has a value, but only in sentiment and market-wise is less than the amount I anticipated. There will be no financial largess to divide, but will instead, hopefully be cherished as a memory of those long departed by another young descendant.

And perhaps I was not entirely wrong in believing,

“Only love matters,”