The Temporariness of Things

When my stepdad passed a few years ago, I bought a silver bracelet custom engraved with his and my mother’s initials: T & C.

I rarely took it off, unless I was afraid I’d lose it swimming, or break it when working out.

But then — crossing the border by foot into Costa Rica a few weeks ago — I suddenly felt an absence on my skin and realized my bracelet had broken off. I noticed as I was literally one step in Nicaragua, the next footstep into Costa Rica, and there was no turning around and going back to see if it had fallen somewhere in the dirty, busy street behind me.

A few weeks later, my infamous little kitty, AKA KamikazeeKitty, AKA, Tino, tried to achieve flight for the 4th time off a balcony — this time disappearing from her fall for days, during thunderstorms, without a trace.

Losing what is precious to us hurts — inanimate objects we give value to for sentimental reasons, or living creatures that accompany our every days. We don’t want to lose important things that are ours.

The bracelet — would I have worn it for the rest of my life, even if I live to be 100? Maybe. The value of the silver I lost hurt not as much as did losing the daily reminder of my stepdad, always on my wrist, always his memory was there until in a split second it wasn’t.