Years ago my husband gave me a lovely set of diamond earrings. I wore them almost daily. Yesterday, I decided to wear them with gold jackets. I noticed when I put them on that they didn’t seem very secure (the jackets are heavy).  I was standing at the bathroom sink blow-drying my hair when one of the sets: diamond stud, jacket, and back fell into the sink. I gasped as I saw them slide down the porcelain toward the drain. Quickly I captured the set with the curve of my palm and drew them towards the lip of the sink and up onto the counter.  With a sigh of relief I turned the hair-dryer off so that I could put my earrings back on. But, to my horror I’d saved the jacket and the back, but the diamond had disappeared. It was then I noticed the three little circular openings at the top of the sink. My precious diamond had fallen into the overflow channel.

Maybe I wouldn’t have been so upset if I’d carelessly lost it at another time, but eight years ago this week my darling husband died and now, through a moment’s inattention, I’d lost his gift to me—a sign of his love and care.

I chastised myself. Why hadn’t I stopped to secure the back? Why had I decided to wear the jackets when I was only going to the mall to take a walk? How could I be so careless? The small loss of the earring seemed a symbol of the larger loss of my husband. I didn’t cry. Instead I picked another set to wear and went on out to take my walk. But, oh, I was so disappointed.

I was in Macy’s when it hit me: If my husband were still here he would find that earring if he had to take the whole bathroom apart. He could fix anything—literally. And so I called my youngest son. Saturday, he’s coming over to take the sink apart. I’m betting he finds that diamond. I’ll let you know.

“My grief and pain are mine. I have earned them. They are part of me. Only in feeling them do I open myself to the lessons they can teach.” Anne Wilson Schaef. From the book, “Healing After Loss,” by Martha Whitmore Hickman.