I once had someone who “understood” jewelry take a look at this ring. He just shook his head and smiled — and I knew exactly what that meant. From then on, I decided to keep the ring tucked away, buried under my so-called treasure trove of “fashion” jewelry — the kind Google defines as “imitation, trinkets, novelty, mass-produced.” In my own private classification system, this one fell under: Never-ever-to-be-worn.
So why did I keep it?
During the final stretch of my paternal grandmother’s life, when I visited her as she lay bedridden with dementia, she gave me this ring. She told me it was mine because emerald is my birthstone. We shared the same birth month — May — both Taureans. And if there was anyone who embodied the Taurus description, it was her: ruled by Venus, with a deep appreciation for beauty in fashion, art, home décor, and nature. My grandmother surrounded herself with elegance and grace. As our relative Lolo Quintin once said, she was truly “regal.”
Me? I was her very “unregal baby.” But what moved me most was that despite her dementia, she remembered my birth month and wanted me to have alahas.
Now, about the ring. I’d heard stories that, in the earlier stages of her illness, people allegedly sold her fake jewelry. I suspect this piece was one of those. To be honest, it looked nothing like her taste or standard. As a vintage junkie, it didn’t even fit my style either. But today, I felt an invisible nudge to unearth it from its hiding place — and wear it.
Because here’s the truth: the beauty of this ring isn’t in its craftsmanship or authenticity. Its beauty lies in the love it carries. Even through the fog of dementia, my grandmother remembered me, chose me, and gifted me this ring.
And really, isn’t that the most precious thing of all?
