My grandmother (Oma) loved topaz, next to diamond's of course. My mother has this elegantly set topaz boulder ring. In all seriousness, this stone is huge. This year, for no reason at all (birthday, Xmas, etc.), my mother passed two of my Oma's rings down to me. One of these two rings stands out in my memory from childhood. It was always on her hand. It is a beautiful ring. Three diamonds are set flush in an oblong rim. This rim is surrounded by a platform of brushed gold supported by a sort of art deco filigree. It is unique and beautiful. My mother can't remember the reason that Opa gave it to her but I think it was an anniversary gift. My Oma loved, loved, loved, loved, loved jewelry. Fortunately for her she had a gifted jeweler as a brother in law. All the women in my family have something made just for them by Uncle Heiny (short for Heinrich). I have no memory of him, but he met me. I have a 24k bracelet with my name on it. He made it for me the woman not me the infant. He looked ahead, always wanting me to enjoy this gift from him. It was too big for my wrist until high school. I was so excited when it finally fit! I tried it on whenever I could coax mother to get it out, again. Sometimes I just wanted to look at it. Afterwards I would ask questions about my Uncle Heiny. Where he was, when could I meet him, what was he like. It was awhile before I understood what death really meant. Sadly, I no longer wear it. Partly because the gold is so pure it is soft and takes scratches very easily, but mostly because it is a priceless treasure from someone who loved me. It is also a reminder of my Tanta Ria. I adored her. My Tanta Ria was a strong and independent woman. Hard as granite on the outside, she remained a widow, never remarrying. She supported herself very comfortably. She had an apartment in Hanau, West Germany over looking the town square. We visited her quite often, my Oma and Tanta had always been close. I remember being a small girl watching the swallows wing their way around the buildings and listening to the church bells as my mother, Oma and Tanta talked. Listening to the women in my family talk was this warm, pleasant and familiar background buzz. My Tanta Ria was completely different with men, in particular my father, but there was another side to her. As formidable as my Tanta could look and sound she was really melted chocolate on the inside. I found that out early on, she had a terrible time refusing any request. She spoiled me, while discussing the ills of spoiling a child, whether I was in Germany or the states. My Oma and Tanta would send a care package every few months, there was always something special for me. Isn't it funny how an object so small as a ring can trigger memories? The other ring I do not remember my Oma wearing. I am sure she did, it is set with her favorite stone topaz. Not as large as the one my mother has but still a bit over done. It is a silver ring which is unusual for her. She greatly preferred gold. It has a Mediterranean look to it, she may have picked it up vacationing in Greece. My Oma had small fingers, the only finger I can fit it on is my pinky. It fully covers a third of my pinky. When I wear it, it is because of the love of her memory. That makes it beautiful to me. Today I thought I had lost this slightly over done silver and topaz ring. I was nearly undone. I tore my truck apart, dumped my purse and cried to my SIL. I went back out to the truck. I had already searched the front half and pulled out anything not nailed down. I hadn't checked the back at all. I hadn't been back there, I hadn't reached back there. There, underneath a camouflage jacket my husband had on last weekend was my Oma's ring. Earlier that day, that ring had been on my pinky. I don't know how it got under that jacket. I may have been in the back half of the truck and just can't remember. I like to think my Oma watches me still. It is a pleasant notion to think she had a hand in the ring's recovery. Don't you think?
