Or what woman, if she had ten drachma coins, if she lost one drachma coin, wouldn’t light a lamp, sweep the house, and seek diligently until she found it? When she has found it, she calls together her friends and neighbors, saying, ‘Rejoice with me, for I have found the drachma which I had lost.’Luke 15:8-10
In December of last year I purchased a chain of gold for Cheryl to put her 25 year wedding band and her engagement ring onto and wear as a necklace. She had complained for months that her rings were falling off her fingers. She wanted a chain to put them on.
The woman who waited on us at Effler’s Jewelers smiled when I told her what we wanted. I told her to think high school and a senior ring on a chain. (The memory makes me smile. Cheryl is my high school sweetheart, my prom date, where I am home.) She tried it on and pronounced it good, maybe perfect. After a week or so she determined that the clasp was a bit too tiny for her numb and shaking hands to manipulate when getting it on and off her neck. We returned and the jeweler was able to attach a larger clasp. Later she discovered that she was able to ease it up over her head without unclasping it.
She unconsciously would touch her rings and put her fingers through the rings while the chain was around her neck. It would occasionally become tangled and knotted. With another trip to the jeweler I was trained to unknot delicate gold chains. (wooden tooth picks work great) The occasional dissension broke out about wearing it to bed at night. Eventually it was carefully placed in the special box that came from the jeweler originally. The placing in the box became a nightly ritual.
As time went on she added a couple other special rings that she had in her jewelry box. For the past couple of months she has been wearing it with four rings.
In October of this year they are lost. A few days ago as we were traveling somewhere, I noticed that she was putting on a different necklace and I asked her where her ring necklace was and she said, “It’s in my pocket.” I now suspect it was not but at the time I thought nothing of it.
I know that I should not feel guilty about the disappearance of the necklace but I do. I suppose it is the care partner, the 50 years of marriage partner, the help mate, the one who panics most when she falls, the one who is not losing their memory – in me. I feel like I have let her down. I have made it my job to keep track of her stuff and mine.
Tony! Don’t be a phony. Help us out her. THE NECKLACE IS GONE.
Carpe the St. Anthony Diem.
Update: The necklace is back. It was recovered from the chair she is sitting on. Moral of the story – Don’t make the disease harder than it is. Sometimes stuff just falls in the crack between the cushion and the arm of a chair. (Sorry Tony. You are not a phony.)