Dear Lexi, The day is still as clear as it was seven years ago. Going back to that frigid September morning I remember myself, ten years old at the time, scared and unsure of what the future held for me.
I sat, hunched over in a pew, wearing all black, with my curly blond hair slicked to my head and pulled back into a tight ponytail. I looked down the aisle into the old wooden pews. The people occupying the seats were all ones who loved my father. Glancing around Mount Carmel’s chapel, I saw some of the strongest people I know broken down and crying. After staring at them, for what felt like hours, my attention was redirected to the old, tiny women with short grey hair and ice blue eyes playing sorrowful music on the piano for the death of my father.
I feel a tear stream down my soft cheek and to the tip of my chin where it sits for a moment before slowly falling onto my cross necklace. Something that I treasure dearly that I got from my father. This necklace is possibly one of the most basic pieces of jewelry I own, but means more to me than anything else. This item is small, only about an inch long. The cross has a silver frame to match the silver chain on which it hangs.
The gems inside the cross are as blue as the sky and shine as bright as the sun. Physically and symbolically this item is light. The memories are always nice ones of times that I loved to share with my father and always make me happy. I love to carry the necklace for that exact reason because it puts good thoughts into my mind and it helps me to grieve in a positive way. On days when I wear it I will sometimes feel the little silver chain catch the bottom layer of my hair, or the cold cross touch my chest and I instantly feel comfort and security.
Memories of my father also flood back into my mind; they are always bitter sweet. I remember his heart shaped face that he often times grew a dark beard onto. His dark brown eyes that match mine and his hair dark with miniscule strands of grey which he always insisted he got from having children. I always remember the times that I shared with my father when I was young and they always remind me of what a wonderful man he truly was. I don’t know what I would do without my necklace. Even when it hangs in my tiny closest in my brown mahogany wood jewelry box, I still look at it and think about my dad.
This necklace is so important to me because it helps me to keep my father in my mind and heart although he is not physically here with me. I love knowing that I have something from my father that I can hold with my hands. This necklace symbolically describes things that I could never put into words.