So my aunt’s birthday was this past Sunday, February 16. I was dreading it. Since my grandmother’s death, I have been wearing Grama’s bracelet, one of two that she put on in India in the 1940s and never took off until the doctors had to cut them off in surgery late in life.
So, after surgery, my cousin, Barb’s daughter, got the intact one, and I got the one they cut off. It was eerily creepy to me during the surgery because during my entire life they were a part of Grama’s right wrist. But she did live several years after that. So her bracelet sat in my collection for several years after surgery. But when she died, I put the cut bracelet on and never took it off again.
Until Sunday, 2/16/14. What would’ve been my aunt’s 60th bday.
As I said, it wasn’t intact. It was cut in one place and was a precarious piece on my wrist for the next year and a half. But it was completely Grama. I noticed it opening back and forth for the past couple of weeks. I knew it wouldn’t last forever. But I never thought it would break on Barb’s birthday. When it happened, I cried like a baby, expecting and dreading it together. I felt a sign reaching through to me. “We’re here, together” wherever.
No final answers on what it means, but here I am. And that is all.