Precious metals, more precious memories.

Jewellery is often so much more than a pretty accessory. It's a memory of the special occasion it was worn at, it's a memory of the person who gave it, it's a memory of where it was purchased. Jewellery at its most special can start simple, but take on vast meaning.

Recently I was given a brown paper bag full of beautiful old fashioned jewellery and ring boxes. Within were antique coins, rings, a couple of necklaces and some brooches. My paternal grandad remarried after being widowed, passed on himself some years ago, and my step-grandmother was the giver of this treasure trove.

Previously I'd been given my ‘real’ grandmothers watch (which I wore at my wedding), and a gold necklace of hers. This recent gift is different in that aside from one ring, it's the jewellery of my step-grandmother, her own memories and special occasions represented in gold, coral and diamond.

The one ring which isn't my step-grandmothers is very special. My grandad was a Freemason, and his ring is a swivel, so it can display his monogram, or the Masonic symbol. It's dinged and chipped, obviously much worn, and for me will now always be tied to a conversation about my grandad and dad, my step-grandmother keen to explain my grandad’s side of old family differences.

My step-grandmother is an alert and sharp 90 years old, although now unsteady on her pins, so it feels both a privilege to be entrusted with this, but also an admittance of her coming end. She is making sure things are passed on just how she wishes, to whom she wishes. It's bittersweet, but at least I know the next time I see her I'll be able to ask about the stories behind the jewellery she obviously prizes so highly, and some of her memories will live on, with my memories of her layered on top.