My amazing Hubs gifted me with a post-Christmas present a few days ago. Something he made himself.
Before I tell you about it, I thought a bit of background info might help you appreciate how special it is.
When we moved into Mom’s condo after she passed away, I couldn’t bear to look at family mementoes. Her lingering scent broke my heart each time I walked through the door. Clothing, personal items… Much of it went to the thrift store. Or into the trash. Anything to get it away from me so I didn’t have to face the grief that I felt sure I would never recover from.
Although it's been over two years since she died, I’m still not able to look at pictures in family photo albums. I will someday, but for now it’s baby steps.
Sometimes the pain of losing our mothers is too much to bear. Especially one as incredible as mine. Once joined by an umbilical cord, as women we were joined at the hip with unfailing love and a deeply personal friendship. There were no secrets. We told each other everything. We were equals as well as mom and daughter and I was lost without her.
Which brings us to the gift.
A few years ago, Hubs found a container of loose pearls in the back bedroom. They belonged to my grandmother Helen Clay Sprague, who was my mom’s mom.
She had placed a note inside that said they were good quality pearls given to her by her dad for her high school graduation in 1923.
That was 99 years ago.
Her note went on to say that at some point the strand broke but she was able to find most of the pearls and save them.
My Hubs debated whether he should have them made into something for me. He didn’t want me to be sad, but felt like he should try to bring them to life again.
Something you should know about Hubs. He was in a motorcycle accident in 1985 and suffered a paralyzed right arm. He can still use the left including his hand, but over the years it’s taken some serious abuse to compensate for the other.
Yet he’s never let it deter him from doing things that many people with two working arms wouldn’t bother to attempt.
With this in mind, Hubs went to work, matching and placing pearls in order of size. He also wanted to add a modern element to the strand that would allow me to wear it with casual clothes as well as when I’m wearing more dressy attire.
Hubs chose tiny square stainless-steel beads, and placed them carefully between the pearls. The end result is an original design and very “Shelly.”
And he made it using his one remaining and arthritic hand.
When he gave them to me, I didn’t dissolve into tears or become deeply saddened. That was the reaction he dreaded.
I opened it and read Grandma’s note, Hubs explained what he did and how he did it as I examined every minute detail. All I remember saying was “oh my gosh” over and over. To me, they are simply exquisite. I couldn’t put them down without picking them up to look at them again.
The pearls appear nearly flawless although I wouldn’t care if they came from a dime store. I know however, that if Grandma said they were quality pearls, they are.
The end result of Hub’s painstaking work is attached.
I love him more each day.
Michelle Close Mills©
