My Mom was not a big jewelry freak. She liked costume pieces that were a little flashy for ‘events,’ but not on a regular basis. Being a Depression Kid, though, she knew the value of gold and stones and for an anniversary she asked my father to get her some nice diamond studs she could pass on. They went to the Jewelers Building in Boston, straight to the professionals and she came home that afternoon with handcrafted diamond studs which she did not ever take out again.
When she was in the hospital and nursing homes they kept telling us to take them home and I could not do it. When she passed we had her calling hours and she wore her earrings and I never thought twice about it. The funeral director asked what do you want us to take out before the services. I said,” Nothing,” not realizing what I was saying. A while later, maybe 2 years, my niece said to me, “You know, Grammie always said I could have her diamonds. Do you know where they are?” I could not for the life of me remember where they were and told her that. She was fine with it.
A few years later, my Dad passed and as we pulled in to the cemetery for Dad’s funeral I suddenly realized that Grammie HAD her diamonds and at the graveside I said, “Oh Stephi, I just remembered, Grammie has your diamonds. We buried them with her. ” She did not miss a beat when she asked, “Somebody got a shovel?”
We did not get a shovel but I did not hear the end of that for a long time. In fact, until I took her to the Jeweler’s Building and bought her, her very own handcrafted diamond studs, I heard about it repeatedly!