Lying in her hospital bed, sleeping peacefully. In a deep sleep, almost too deep for comfort. She’s slowly drifting away, her bright personality fading, her body withering away. Day by day, she is becoming less and less of the exuberant woman she once was. Although the rays of sun are shining through the rain spotted windows, the feeling inside the room is less than bright and cheerful. The blue-grey walls stretch out around her, confining her to this space like a jail cell. There is a shiny blue vinyl loveseat parallel to the best, squeaking with every shift of my grandfather’s body. The beautiful golden ring on her emaciated finger reflects the early spring sun and catches my grandfather’s eye. Although her condition had worsened, the ring- a symbol of hope in her darkest times- had not failed her. It had given her the strength to push on even when doctors were sure she would lose the grueling fight against pancreatic cancer.

It was cheap. “Made in Korea” etched into the inner part of the ring. The fake gold coating had worn off over time and left a green tarnish on the band. The hearts alternate, right way up, then upside down, fitting perfectly together like my grandfather’s hand in hers as she took her final breath. In the two years that she was ill, the ring’s beautiful glow started to fade away just as she did- little by little, until there was hardly anything left to it. The tiny diamond in the center of the heart became dull and glazed over, much like her eyes in the final months of her fight.

There was a man standing in the doorway dressed in a tuxedo. The expression on his face was sympathetic. He shook my hand as I walked into the room. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”, he stated in a plain, rehearsed voice. I started to tear up. “Thank you. she was my grandmother.”, I replied, trying to keep the tears from streaming down my face. “Your grandpa told me what a special woman she was. Family is in the front two rows, sweetie.”. He had been cupping my hand in his this whole time and let go as I turned to walk away. I avoided looking at the pictures of my grandma on the poster boards as I walked up the aisle to the glass case where my grandpa was standing, trying to stay strong for him. I knew if he saw me cry, he would as well. I threw my arms around him and squeezed him tight, peeking over his shoulder at the wooden box inside the glass case that held my grandmother’s ashes. We let go simultaneously and I could see the pain in his eyes as he pulled back. “I love you, grandpa. She’s in a better place now and she’ll never be in pain again.”, I consoled. He nodded in agreement and I turned to sit by my dad in the second row. The man who had greeted me walked to the front and read some of my grandmother’s favorite bible scriptures. Tears cascaded down my face as I remembered my mother giving me the news, regretting not calling her to check up. Not getting to say goodbye. This was a burden I would always carry with me. I would always try to forgive myself, knowing that my grandmother would not want me to feel this guilt.

We returned to my grandfather’s house with heavy hearts after the memorial service and had lunch, even though we were not quite in the mood to eat. We talked about fond memories and her love of clothes and jewelry. “Would you like to take a look in her jewelry box? Your grandmother would want you to have some of her things.”, he asked. I didn’t answer, because the answer was simply unnecessary, understood even when not spoken. He pulled out the top drawer of her jewelry armoire and the diamond in the center of the golden heart reflected the early spring light just as it had on my grandmother’s finger on that bittersweet day. I held back tears as I slid it onto my finger and it fit snugly on my finger, like it was meant just for me. I said a silent thank you to my grandmother as I felt her watching over me and I knew she truly was in a better place.

He didn’t think much of it. He didn’t realize how much that cheap golden ring would mean to me. He didn’t realize that this simple piece of jewelry, barely a few ounces, would weigh so heavily on my heart. It brings back memories of warm hugs, talks on the phone, and lots of laughs. But most of all, it would remind me that she would not want the guilt of not saying goodbye to weigh down on me. It reminds me that she will always be there with me, even when she is not.