My Sister's Class Ring

When we went home to my parents' house to visit on Sunday, one of the tasks that awaited us was to sort through more of my oldest sister Barb's things. There were blankets, and clothing (much of it with butterflies on), and jewelry.

I came home with more of her stuff and my husband even nabbed a few things, including a ring which he might have thought was a man's ring, but upon looking closer, we realized it was Barb's - she was the Valedictorian for the East Juniata class of 1969, and this was her ring.

It is hard to know what to do with their things when someone you love passes. You want to make the most of it. You want to honor the person you love. You do not want to waste anything. But what to do, what to do, with all of the stuff that they left behind?

In prior postings, I've talked about Barb. I've shared my grief at her passing. I've shared my gratitude that she was even here in the first place, and helped to make me who I am. There never was a person just like her and there never will be again.

The initial wailing grief still hits me sometimes - the kind that guts you and sends you, sobbing, to your knees. There is a part of you that still can't believe it, that is still hurting like a lost child. The wailing grief comes and goes.

But even when that is not here, there is a quiet sense of misery that is waiting for me at the edges of everything. I am never more than three seconds from more tears. I cry on my drive to work. I cry at my desk AT work. I cry quietly in public places when nobody is looking, and even when they are. I cry at home.

I miss my big sister; I will forever, until we are reunited again at last, when I get to say my own farewells to Earth. I have a folder of pictures of her on my computer desktop and sometimes I look at them just to see her smile one more time. I read old emails she sent me, cherishing each loving word. I wish - again and again - that I could have saved her. I grieve.

I've talked about finding the last Starbucks cup from our much cherished walks along the beach in Atlantic City. I've also talked about her books, and especially her Stephen King collection, which I inherited. And I shared one of the poems she wrote that is a family favorite, in which my brother and sisters and I are immortalized.

So on this day, I decided to wear her ring to work. It's a little big for my ring finger and a little small for the middle finger, so I wore it for a while and then I took it off. The ring is gold and I think the stone is onyx. It's a very simple, classy, dressy looking ring.

The Crittergators wanted to see it, of course, and so I let them. One of them even noticed writing on the inside - ancient cuneiform? But it turned out it was her initials, BJC. So we had a good look and then I put the ring back on.

A thing I would note is that it feels weird to wear the belongings of a dead person. I want to say that wearing her ring made me feel closer to my sister, but in fact, what it did was made me feel like the great pretender, like I was trying - and failing - to BE my sister, when she is no longer here. I imagine this feeling will fade in time but that day has not yet come.

Dear sister, thank you for the ring and for everything else. I love you and I miss you. And I wish most of all that you were here to wear it your very own self. Sign me: The Pretender.

So here is the only song that can go with this image, and let me be clear that I feel it describes ME, and says nothing at ALL about her, my beloved sister whose ring this is. The soundtrack song is Jackson Browne, with The Pretender. I love this song and so here are two versions: one by the man himself with just a piano, in 1994 (music starts about 1:30 in), and one with Crosby, Stills, and Nash, in 2009.