My grandmother's wedding ring.

For some reason I started thinking about it couple of weeks ago and the thought refused to let go of me. It's hard to explain but I think it all has to do with books I've been reading lately. They've made me think about my own past and my roots and naturally, my grandparents. And suddenly I remembered I had my grandma's wedding ring at home.

So one of the first things I did today when I got to my dad's was to look for my little jewelry box and take out her ring. It's funny because it had been there for nearly 10 years and I barely ever thought about it or took a look at it. But today I took it out and put it on my finger and it will stay there for a long long time. So now I have two rings, one my mum's and the other my grandma's. My my, it's a lot of past I carry around with me.

And the thing with my grandma's ring is that it will always carry a mystery in it. Every time I look at it there are so many questions I wish I had an answer to. But they must remain unanswered. Such is life. I got the ring from my mum, my grandma had given it to her when her health got suddenly really bad. (There's one disease that seems to run in the family, both my mum and my grandma fought it. God only knows, I might have to look it in the eye one day myself.) Her wish was that my mum would give it to me on my 20th birthday. Which she did but the sad thing is that by that time my grandma had already passed away. She died five months before I turned 20. So I never got to thank her for trusting it to me. Neither did I have a chance to ask for an explanation. I don't know why she decided to give her wedding ring to me. I don't know why she chose me.

My grandma had 16 grandchildren.

Why me?