Something Blue

by Keri Ann Flaccomio
(Paramus, NJ, USA)

My family has always been one to carry on traditions and keep memories alive; members of my family like to leave their marks on each other, often through gifts and objects that have a significance or story behind them.

Since I was born in September, my birthstone is the sapphire—the color of a deep blue ocean. Throughout the years I have received many pieces of jewelry—rings, bracelets, necklaces—allowing me to proudly display the fact that I am a September baby.

Fantasizing about my wedding day as a little girl, I used to wonder which of these I would wear on my special day to fulfill the "something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue" custom.

Flash forward to second grade. One day, my mom tells me that my grandma is very sick with something called "cancer"—it doesn't sound like such a bad word to me, so I'm not overly worried. My grandma is my best friend, and she is invincible—as all grandmas are—so what's the worst that could happen? She might need to take some sour-tasting medicine for a few days, but surely she will be fine after that.

* * *

A few months have gone by, and my world has turned upside down. My grandma is in a hospital called Calvary with other people who have cancer, but my mom has told me that the doctors cannot make my grandma any better and that she is getting ready to go to Heaven soon.

I am confused and in denial, so my teachers check books out of the library to try to help me understand the situation. I cry a little. I draw pictures for my grandma to hang up in her room. Maybe if I'm really good this will all go away.

* * *

Now it seems real. Mom tells me to make these visits count. The hospital invites the families of each patient to a summer barbecue celebration. I am enjoying the day, but I have a weird feeling inside my stomach. In the blistering heat, band members in colorful shirts perform a song I would later come to learn as Stevie Wonder's "I Just Called to Say I Love You."

As I'm dancing with my dad, my mom is sitting at the table with tears sliding down her cheeks. I remember the feeling in my stomach, sit down, and sip on a Sprite.

* * *

The barbecue comes to an end and it is time for us to leave. Mom brings me over to my grandma and tells me to "show her what you got!" I tuck back my hair and tilt my head from side to side to show off my newly pierced ears. Mom exclaims, "She finally did it, Ma! She got her ears pierced! I told you she would." My grandma, frail and drowsy, smiles, exposing her teeth, which are yellowed from the cigarettes that put her in this hospital. I don't understand what the big deal is, but I smile back.

* * *

On September 18, 1996, I awake to the sound of my mom sobbing in the kitchen. I don't want to get out of bed because I know what's wrong, and I know that once I walk into the kitchen, there's no turning back. After fifteen minutes, I get up, go into the kitchen, sit down on my mom's lap and give her a hug. It's over. Grandma is in Heaven now. There will be no more visits.

* * *

After my grandma was gone, I started living through the gifts she had left me over the years—Polly Pocket, my Thumbelina doll, and countless other objects. It became harder with each day to realize that she was never coming back, and that all I had left were the memories. Helping my parents clean out her house felt wrong—I didn't want anyone else living in my grandma's house, which meant everything to her.

My First Holy Communion came in May of 1997. My parents arranged to have a celebration at our house with family and close friends, following the church ceremony. At the party I was allowed to open gifts. I got an American Girl doll, a ring and a lot of money.

When I thought there were no more gifts to open, my mom handed me one more. "This one," she said, "is special."

I opened a small box and found a beautiful pair of earrings adorned with sapphire stones. "Grandma asked me to give these to you," my mom said. "She was worried you wouldn't get your ears pierced... until you showed her at the barbecue."

Suddenly, none of the other gifts mattered. On my special day, I felt my grandma watching over me. Sitting there in my fancy white dress and veil, I couldn't help thinking of my future wedding day. I smiled to myself as I admired the earrings. I had found my "something blue."