Blog # 8 My Personal Essay- The Claddagh Story

My Claddagh Story

The beautiful irish ring worn today by many people encompasses a great symbolic meaning and it seems that mostly everyone who wears one possesses their own story. With its accented and pronounced radiance dressed up in silver or gold, the claddagh ring stands out as a very powerful symbol. Whether it is worn with its intended meaning or as a treasure, it is very much valued by its owner.

This ring always intrigued me and I became captivated when I eventually learned of it's meaning. I absolutely loved when I saw others around me wearing the ring and I would automatically start up a conversation about it. When I got older and bought my first claddagh ring, I followed this traditional custom. It wasn't until 2006 when I started using the ring's meaning in my own way, that I truly saw its profound significance and importance in my life and now it never leaves my finger.

I was first introduced to the claddagh ring when i was a little girl and my grandmother took me to a jewelry store where rows of rings stood before me. My surroundings were hazy and unrecognizable looking back at that moment but I now see it must have been important for her to buy me this ring. I watched her pick up a small, silver, claddagh ring, finding the right one to fit my finger and I carelessly took care of it, in adoration of the object itself like a child often is with a new toy. Now I see there was a reason this time was highlighted and a special memory was formed and a link was created. From that day on, I saw this symbol as our own- a special bond we shared of her irish background she passed down and from all the love she bestowed. She always wore a gold claddagh ring on one of her fingers and I always admired that ring and would gaze at it, unspokenly, knowing it represented a connection we had.

I tried numerous times to find the ring my grandmother bought for me but it was impossible and I think it will forever remain lost. If i would've known how much that ring would mean to me in the future, I would have never taken it off, just like the one i own today. This one has a black heart. And I am conscious of it's presence on my finger in fear that this too shall slip off and veil itself from my sight.

My grandmother died November 17th 2006 due to a sudden aneurism in the brain. The phone rang in the morning as I was in the bathroom toying with my hair in preparation for school. I froze as my mother picked up the phone and began screaming. My grandfather told my mom a blood vessel burst in my grandmother's brain and was being taken to the hospital. But yet I held on to a sense of optimism that eveything was going to be all right. It had to. My grandfather, her best friend in life, remained by her side, trying to talk to her until her last words turned to slurs and he watched as she slipped out his life. On the way to my Grandparents house to meet my uncle, my sister was driving as me and my mother began a conversation about Thanksgiving and how we want to cook this year for the first time since my grandmother will be too weak. When we arrived, our optimishm turned into a reality we weren't ready to embrace. "She's not going to make it" my uncle said so fast- too fast, but quick enough for him. My mother immediantly fell to the ground, her eyes rolling up towards the sky. As everyone tried to help her up. I began screaming "Nana!" "Nana!" My uncle grabbed me and while I began to cry in his arms, he starting breaking down. Realizing it, he stooped and said we had to go. It wasn't long after before I realized she died on the way to the hospital, this i know, even though a machine was keeping her alive until we all decided it was time to let her go.

It was the year of death. Rich and Tony- their names still reappear in my mind never letting me forget. A car accident that started it all quite like the big bang theory. One was my best friend's ex-boyfriend and the other, a friend of my boyfriend. Life sucks and the difficult moments will always stick out in our minds the most in effort to distort it. Bad things could happen and they will. This was the main thought that dwelled inside me- found a place to live and stayed dormant ever since. My relationship with my boyfriend at the time began to falter, a complete turnaround from the ideal relationship I thought we once had- a relationship that focused on perfection- change was incomprehensible. The third death was my grandmother. I tried to make him see that their is no competition but our usual fighting consisted of who should be more in pain. I wasn't able to let him grieve and his pain wasn't in relevance to mine. The next instance of death after my grandmother, my boyfriend just gave the only response he could. I felt the coldness of his words rise goosebumps on my skin. "Everybody dying," he says to me without glancing at my face. This time we were walking figures- so distant, not able to save each other. Death became the norm and support for each other couldn't be found.

I sat in the waiting room not far from where my grandmother's body was. There was several amish people there and I remembered the amish shootings (note) that occurred that same year. I felt connected to them. Someone was there talking to one of them about the situation. "Do you think there is hope she will make it?" I asked one of them in hope they would give me some type of spiritual response. The woman looked at me and said it was possible. A small amount of optimism came back and I prayed that maybe this time God can let my family have a miracle. I recall very clearly the first time my other uncle clung onto me outside the room. We both broke down together. He said the last time he saw his mother was at halloween when they all took my cousins trick-or-tricking. "What was Isabelle for halloween?" I tried to stay consistent with the converstaion. He paused and forced the words out. "She was the grim reaper."

Later on that day while looking at my grandmother inside the room, I remembered the claddagh. My eyes shifted around the room and stopped when I reached her belongings. Her ring was somewhere in here and I wanted it. It needed to be with me. Before we left, I kissed my gradmother's forehead whispering "I love you nana," - my unreturned goodbye. My grandfather sat lifeless in the chair, refusing to believe what was surrounding him, only focusing on his own strength he said to me, "I'm sorry kiddo."

The last day she was alive, I was fighting with my boyfriend which was habitual at the time. My mind, half absorbed over a merry-go-round of a problem which I usually started, focused on whether I would get a call from him soon. My Grandmother was still alive that day. We all sat in the dining room talking, just my grandparents, my mom and I and I remember staring at her gold claddagh ring but this time I told her how much I liked it. I lifted up my hand to show her mine. They looked so happy that day. My grandfather showed us his new wedding band that my grandmother recently bought for him after he lost the previous one. Jokingly, she said that this was going to be his last one. After a while into the conversation, I decided to walk downstairs to watch TV in complete thought of my boyfriend and feeling slightly guilty but I didn't yet understand why. i looked upstairs and saw my grandmother looking back at me. When she left, I ran upstairs giving her a quick goodbye and I wish now it was longer. But it was enough for me to remember her scent and feel of her brown jacket with the furry hood brushing up against my face. That day I didn't wave out the window until the car drove out of sight.

It will be three years next month since her death and the season's return drags in extra memories. He doesn't wear his ring anymore now and even though I don't fully understand, I realize for him it is something he needed to do. I broke up with my boyfriend that first summer, realizing it was something that had to be done. Even though I think about being in a relationship, I can't imagine myself taking that chance again just yet. My grandfather lives alone. He takes a women out for breakfast on Sundays. My mom says it is just for companionship. But I wish that woman was my nana. I picture her sometimes at the house, walking in her slippers, revitalizing it with her presence and returning that feeling of contentment as soon as you walk through the door.

My mind always drifts when I'm driving and I often wait for a good song to come on the radio to match the mood I'm in. "How to save a life" by the fray comes on occassinally- A depressing song that I used to not be able to listen to and I watch my mind replaying the same scenes. That long drive to philadelphia knowing what we were about to do. It was the second day there and the last. My brother was driving so I was able to stare at the window in complete orbit trying to form her face in the passing clouds. I felt the pain more when this song came on. Now I turn the song up, almost full blast so it can penetrate througout my body erasing everything else that could distrub this time. I can almost hear her speaking to me. "I need you Nana" I begin to say out loud as several tears sometimes build up in my eyes.

I stared at my ring and rubbed the heart so roughly that the ring become wet from the sweat of my finger caused by severe pain surrounding my entire body. I clung on to it, pressing it against my finger, like a memory I didn't want to forget. At this time the heart was facing outward but when I was sitting there at the hospital, I didn't want to think of him as my finger caressed the ring. My only thoughts were of my grandmother and this ring was what she gave to me- not the one I lost long ago but the meaning, the power, the love that will remain with me forever. I took the ring off my finger and slide it back on with the black heart facing towards me. My grandmother was gone but she wasn't permantly gone from my life and I know she will always be with me. I am taken. It is a hidden secret resting upon my finger connecting to my soul. But now I own something even better. My grandfather gave me her own, gold, claddagh ring that she always wore and this means more to me than anything. I always owned silver, but now I have gold.


Claddagh Citation: The center piece displays a heart of love surrounded by hands of friendship and on top rests a crown of loyalty. The old custom and tradition of this ring can be worn to represent if a person's heart is available or taken. If the ring is worn on the left hand with the heart facing inward, it means that you are married. But if the heart is facing outward, you are enaged and will soon be wed. If the ring is worn on the right hand with the heart facing inward, you're in a relationship with someone and your heart is therefore taken, but if the heart is looking the other way, then you are still in search for love and your heart is open.

Oh, Aquamarine

The finest of blues
Born with the color flowing throughout my blood
Dripping from a claddagh of memory
So permanently attached upon my finger
A magnet to my grandmother
The link connected to a blue heart
Coloring my world as a constant reminder
The blanketed sky where she watches
Like a river reflecting the sky in soft ripples
Not to disturb their unity transforming to one
A desire to swim with the water splashing over me
A continuous rejuvenation of memory
An understanding of a fish’s dependence on water
Our shared Piscean souls
The color resting beside diamonds, rubies and pearls
Value more often to catch the light
A gift left for me
And the golden treasure dressed in blue
That walks beside me always