A couple of you may remember the saga of A's bracelet, the one I made for him that he never took off; the one that was lost in the shuffle after he died; or maybe it wasn't lost at all, but the unwillingness of his family to find out where it was and get it for me made it is good as lost. The second chapter of that was that I made an exact replica of that bracelet 3 different times, and it kept coming apart, and I wondered at the time if that was a sign that I wasn't supposed to wear that reminder every day for the rest of my life.
I put the bracelet in a safe place next to his picture and didn't really think about it for a long time, until recently. I'd gotten the jewelry-making bug again last weekend, and was in the mood to make some anklets for the summer. Once I had all my beads and tools out, though, I thought again about that bracelet. I fished it out of the dish I'd put it in, washed the dust off of it, and brought it back to my desk and tried once again.
The funny thing is, as soon as it was finished and I put it on, I felt better, maybe not unlike those widows who have taken their wedding rings off for awhile, only to put them back on later. I didn't wear it for long because it was long past bedtime, but I wore it all the next day, and felt the same. That was unexpected, considering I've gone without wearing it for months...maybe years now; I don't even remember when I put it away.
As I was driving to work this morning, I was reflecting on how I've been feeling the last few days, which is kind of hard. Cynical. Shields up and defensive. And I'm not really sure why, as I cannot pinpoint any specific attack coming at me. And yet, it stands to reason that that bracelet would only make me feel better if I was somehow feeling worse, even if I didn't realize it.
Maybe it's simply the relief of having something lost returned, making me feel a bit more whole. I don't know what it means; but nonetheless, I think that bracelet is going to get a lot of wear in coming days.