I talked to my mom on the phone yesterday, and she informed me that a big chunk of my inheritance was gone. My mind immediately went to one of the many motorized vehicles in the garage. I thought my dad might have crashed his '73 Corvette or that maybe one of the four motorcycles they own was stolen. But I was wrong. It was something much smaller and much more valuable.
The diamond in my mom's wedding ring is gone.
It is an understatement to say my mom is upset about losing this. The diamond is valuable not only for its monetary worth, but also its sentiment and history. It is the diamond my mom has worn on her left hand for 34 years as the symbol of her and my dad's love for one another. It's also a family heirloom. It is half of a larger diamond that belonged to my dad's grandmother.
Once my mom realized it was gone, she was able to narrow down the time she lost it to a 15 minute window. The problem is her activities during those 15 minutes included throwing laundry in the wash, feeding the birds in our backyard and rummaging through the storage area she and my dad have in the basement. My mom has looked in all these places over and over. She's shifted the snow in the back yard and even flushed the lines of the washing machine before it hit the spin cycle. One night, unable to sleep, she headed outside with flashlight in hand hoping the glint of diamond would be caught by the light.
It pains me that she hasn't been able to find this. For my inheritance sake, I could care less. The diamond's worth lies in the significance it holds to my parents. To me, and I am sure them, it is a symbol of their marriage which has weathered for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, and during the good times and the bad. I hope this diamond does turn up, not because I want my inheritance to grow, but because I want this symbol of their love to last as long as they both shall live.