The Lavalier

I don't know how the lavalier came to be owned by Aunt Ruby. I do know that it was a gift from my grandfather to my grandmother on the occasion of their wedding.
A tiny diamond twinkles at the center of the delicate gold Victorian-style pendant. A crescent shaped natural pearl dangles at the bottom. Hanging in our family room is a cherished photo of my grandmother wearing the lavalier.

There was always some disagreement among my mother's siblings about who should have inherited which family mementos. There weren't many. Our family was not well-off. My grandfather, a grocer, died in his late 40's of pneumonia following gall bladder surgery. My grandmother managed to raise her four young children by gradually selling off property my grandfather had aquired during their marriage.

If there was a will, it didn't specify who would get the few trinkets left behind when my grandmother passed away. Her wedding band went to my Uncle Curtis' eldest daughter, Claudia. My mother got granny's engagement ring, which I now have. Ruby ended up with the lavalier. Sounds fair enough now, but my mother and my aunt always bickered with their brother about the wedding band.

When I married the first time, at nineteen years old, Aunt Ruby came out for the wedding. She let me wear the lavalier during the ceremony as my "something old." It fit perfectly against my antique white high-necked gown, and accompanied the headpiece I wore, my grandmother's, that my mother had updated for me. Aunt Ruby made it quite clear that the pendant was just a loan, that she wanted it back at the end of the day.

Twenty-three years later, I invited Aunt Ruby to my second wedding. I asked if I could borrow the lavalier again. This time the pendant rested against my skin, framed by the cream-colored jacket that topped a matching soft, flowing skirt.

After the photographer finished posing my new husband and me with all the combinations of attendants, relatives, cake and bouquet, I found my aunt chatting with my mother at a table near the buffet.

I reached around my neck to unhook the precious memento, when my Aunt stopped me.
"Honey, why don't you keep it? I don't dress up much anymore. You'll get more use out of it now than I will," she said. Then she leaned in a little closer and winked. "Besides, I don't want Curtis' girls to get it when I die."