Blog # 16 My Final Draft- My Claddagh Story

My Claddagh Story

Before we left the hospital for the last time, I sat in one of the chairs by myself outside my grandmother’s room. I stared at my ring and rubbed the heart so roughly that the ring became wet from the sweat of my finger caused by severe pain surrounding my entire body. I clung on to it, pressing it against my skin, 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 Sean as my finger caressed the ring. I took the ring off my finger and slid it back on with the black heart facing towards me. My only thoughts were of my grandmother and this ring was what she gave me- not the one I lost long ago, but the meaning, the power, the love that will remain with me forever.

This ring always intrigued me and I became captivated when I eventually learned of its meaning. When I got older and bought my first Claddagh ring, I followed the traditional custom. I would automatically start up a conversation when I saw others wearing it, becoming instantly drawn to its magnetic force. 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. Now it never leaves my finger. This beautiful Irish ring worn today by many people encompasses a great symbolic meaning and it seems that most everyone who wears one possesses their own story.

The center piece displays a heart of love surrounded by hands of friendship and on top rests a crown of loyalty. This ring, according to old custom, 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. If it 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’re still in search of love.

My first introduction occurred 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 as she picked 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. That highlighted time eventually formed a memory and a special link was created. From that day on, without so much realizing it then, this symbol became 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 which in the future I would own. My eyes would gaze upon its worth with so much unspoken sentiment, knowing it represented a connection we had that could never compare to any replica I may find. I always owned silver but it was she who wore gold.

She was the only grandmother I ever had, even though my dad’s mom is still alive. But a three year separation period that they, the Sicilian side of the family started over a series of unnecessary tension gave me a new perspective. And now my dad is the only one who really talks to her. To me that’s not true family and I don’t regret not calling her. But my nana was the one that was there for me and my family, financially and emotionally. She would always sit, beaming in the audience at all our school events. She would often brag to various people in the family about all of our accomplishments, addressing how immensely proud she was of all her grandchildren. But most of all, she was always there.

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 upstairs 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 she was being rushed to the hospital. But yet I held on to a sense of optimism that everything 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 as he watched her slip from his life.

On the way to my grandparent’s house to meet my uncle, my sister was driving as my mother and I began a solemn conversation about Thanksgiving. “We should cook for Nana this year,” Carrie said to us knowing that our grandmother would be too weak. When we arrived, our optimism turned into a reality we weren't ready to embrace as we saw my uncle standing beside his car in the driveway. "She's not going to make it," James said too fast. He looked as if all color vanished from his face as he prepared those words. My mother immediately fell to the ground in front of the strange, yet familiar house; her eyes rolled up towards the sky. As everyone tried to help her up, I began screaming "Nana! Nana!" My uncle grabbed me and I began to cry in his arms. He started breaking down. Realizing it, he stopped himself and said we had to go. It wasn't long after that I began to realize she already died on the way to the hospital. This we all knew, 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. Bad things could happen and they will. This was the main thought that dwelled inside me; found a place to live and stayed dormant for a long time. My relationship with my boyfriend Sean 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. Now I see it as inevitable. The third death was my grandmother. 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 goose bumps on my skin. "Everybody’s dying," he said 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 one another couldn't be found.

I sat in the waiting room not far from where my grandmother's body was. There were several Amish people there and I remembered the Amish shootings 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, trusting 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 had to keep leaving the room. I wasn’t able to stay. I listened as more commotion filled the room- on and off crying, and decisions about letting go of my grandmother after the doctor informed us several times of what I refused to understand. Why can’t we just have more time? What about a miracle? 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 stood inside the room staring at who was once my Grandmother- noises from the machines could be heard. It was quiet this time. I kissed my grandmother’s forehead whispering "I love you Nana," - my unreturned goodbye. My grandfather sat lifeless in the chair, refusing to believe what was surrounding him. Focusing on his own strength he said to me, "I'm sorry kiddo."

It was my 16th birthday when I first received a significant part of my grandmother- wrapped up in a white box. She told my mom beforehand that she couldn’t wait to give me this present. Inside rested an aquamarine necklace much bigger than the one she got for me a few Christmases before. Its smooth, shimmering surface collected different colors of light all around me. I could almost see my reflection. My grandmother told her it was a ring that belonged to her mother. Now it was given to me as a necklace. My treasure of aquamarine jewelry eventually grew to a collection I received from my grandmother’s will. She talked with my mom often about what she would leave to me and my sister. But really, she left more than just jewelry. She left a piece of herself.

The last day she was alive, I was fighting with Sean 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. We all sat in the dining room talking, just my grandparents, my mom and I. I remember staring at her gold Claddagh ring, but this time I told her how much this ring always meant to me. I lifted up my hand to show her mine. They both looked so happy. 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 our rec room to watch TV in complete thought of my boyfriend, while feeling slightly guilty. I didn’t listen to my intuition that day. I looked upstairs and saw my grandmother looking back at me. I had to quickly turn my head back to the TV because I felt that I was doing something appallingly wrong. Later on when they were both getting ready to go, they whispered to each other about the old beat up couch I was sitting on. I knew they were planning on getting us a new one for Christmas. I followed them back upstairs to give a quick goodbye which I now wish was longer. But it was enough to give me some kind of an imprint- the scent of her perfume and the feel of her brown jacket with the furry hood brushing up against my face when my arms were wrapped around her. That day I didn't wave out the window until their white, Grand Marquis drove out of sight.

It will be three years next month since her death and the season's return drags in extra memories. My grandfather doesn't wear his wedding band anymore and even though I don't fully understand, but now I realize that this was something he had to do. I broke up with my boyfriend the first summer after, realizing it was something I had to do. 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 woman 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. Holidays were the greatest. It was an escape from home- a treat we all looked forward to. When I was younger I looked forward to the huge, extravagant presents my grandparents would buy for all of us. They would ask us to make up a list in October. But it was the conversation I eventually started to look forward to- the laughter and of course my grandmother running into the kitchen in the middle of dinner forgetting to take the rolls out of the oven. I especially loved when we would all rest our bellies from all the holiday eating. Midway between unconsciousness and watching TV, I would glance over at my grandmother still puttering around in the kitchen where I can still picture her. That feeling was unforgettable. She gave us all more life than we already had- especially for my grandfather. Those two were a match that was meant to be even before the beginning of time. “Sidekicks,” my grandfather says sometimes.

I bought a silver ring that served the purpose of a wedding band for my boyfriend on our one year anniversary. I already owned a ring he gave to me, and I felt that this would represent our love and what I once thought was endless. But now when I look back, I see that sometimes change has to occur in life even though it isn’t always easy to face. A year later, he lost this ring in the river at the cabins which held most of our memories and was what we both considered the foundation of our two year romance. Now, this piece of jewelry I once gave him with the inscription “My love always” is probably still there, swimming among the rocks and other lost belongings in the river, where it belongs. I recently went to that area with his cousin (one of my best friends) and I told her I wanted to see the cabins again- to just quickly glance at what was such an immense part of my past. It took me not even one minute before I told her to turn around. That place was completely different to me now and I think I’ll leave it that way.

My mind always drifts when I'm driving and I often search to find a good song on the radio or one to match the mood I'm in. I pause when "How to save a life" by The Fray comes on- a depressing song that I used to not be able to listen to and my mind almost immediately starts replaying the same, familiar scenes. That long drive to Philadelphia, knowing what we were about to do. It was our second day there and the last. My brother was driving so I was able to stare out of the passenger side 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 in full blast so it can penetrate throughout my body erasing everything else that could disturb this time. More memories start pouring in and 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. In the same instance, a big smile emerges across my face and I glance up at the sky and back down at the world around me where, I’m fully conscious of the present again and of the Claddagh I can feel wrapped around my index finger. My grandmother was gone but she wasn't permanently out from my life and I know she will always be with me. This is our hidden secret that rests upon my finger, connected to my soul. And that I can never lose.


(Names were changed for privacy reasons)





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