I now understand why many women are frequently festooned with seemingly mismatched jewellery. Armies of women adorned with curious pieces from different decades, different lives. Mementos, relics, reminders, of all the women that came before them.
I only understand now because I have become one of those women.
Now that you are gone, Mum, your necklaces, earrings and rings have become mine. Passed down to me, to look after for the next generation of women who will weave their own stories of sunshine and suffering, of hardship and hope.
The rings are artefacts from my childhood. They map the hands that buttered my toast, that brushed my hair in-front of the three-bar fire, that held me as you whispered “This too shall pass” when I was at my lowest.
Lifetimes of love, work, motherhood, sadness and joy engrained into the metal. Like a time- capsule, they hold generations of hope and promise. Hope of all the women that fought and toiled and suffered to make life easier for me; to give me my place in the world.
You told me that when you were a wee girl it was hard. You were cold, you were hungry. Everything was black with dirt and soot. You told me you would sit on your breakfast roll because you thought it made it bigger, and you would have more food to keep your constant hunger at bay.
You told me when the boys at school were being taught maths and science, the girls would sit in the same classroom and sew or read. When you questioned why, you were told that girls would be homemakers - wives and mothers. Maths and science were surplus to requirements.
You fought hard to make it different for your own girls - and you succeeded. Even when it seemed impossible, you never gave up. You always had hope and it pushed you forward. The hope you had for our future pushed you forward.
And now Mum, as I look down on my own hands, aging and weathered by mothering, I feel that sense of enormous hope. Mementos of you, of your grit and your strength, sprinkled across my fingers.
Your rings are daily reminders to be better. To be better for my girls, and for their children. Reminders to pass on your hard-won wisdom, to make sure the next generation don’t lose the fire you stoked in us. Reminders to be kind to ourselves, to be kind to others, and even on our darkest days, to find the light and to have hope.