Not all treasure is silver or gold. ~ Captain Jack Sparrow

My mother’s gold cross is gone, and I am sick about it on many levels.

For as long as I can remember my mother wore that beautiful gold cross around her neck every day.  It was a gift from her father on his return from one of his many trips to his homeland, Italy.

 To my mother, the cross was a connection to her father who died nearly 45 years ago.

To me, it was an outward sign of my mother’s great faith.

To one of her visiting aides, it was money – something they could pawn or melt down for cash.

I am sick that I will not be the recipient of that cross someday.  As the oldest daughter, I had my eye on that one piece of jewelry to claim as my own once my mom was no longer with us.  I could see myself wearing that cross and feeling a special connection to my mother and grandfather.

I am sick that a person we paid to help my mom, while she waited for a room in an assisted living facility, felt the right to help herself to that cross along with other jewelry, gift cards, and a little cash. How low can you be? How desparate? How can you sleep at night knowing you stole from a woman suffering with dementia? I don’t understand.

I am sick that all the good jewelry is gone, and my siblings and I will not have the opportunity to pass it down to our children or grandchildren someday. That honor has been stolen from us.

As time passes, the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach is slowly being replaced with sadness and then resignation.  I know that in the grand scheme of life the jewelry was not really that important. Although each piece evoked a particular memory, the memories we hold in our hearts can never be stolen.