Aunt Linda groped for Grandma’s ring while she was still breathing. Grandma didn’t stop her even though she saw it, as did I.
A parcel requiring signatures arrived two days after the funeral, and the recipient was instructed to open it in front of everyone. After grabbing it like a trophy, Linda turned pale.
My aunt Thief assumed Grandma didn’t notice when she took her diamond ring off her finger on her deathbed, but two days after the funeral, a parcel arrived that made her blush.
For as long as I can remember, my aunt Linda had desired it.
Our family’s matriarch, my grandma, kept us all together with her severe gaze and Sunday roasts. However, my Aunt Linda seemed to be only interested in the sparkle on Grandma’s left hand as she lay in that hospice bed, weak and dying.
The ring was THE ring.
Grandpa gave her a vintage two-carat diamond when she returned from World War II. It was more than jewelry. It was a myth.
For as long as I can remember, my aunt Linda had desired it.
She moved her hand across Grandma’s left hand.
At the time, Grandma was receiving hospice care. We were all gathered around her bed to bid her farewell. While whispering my love for her, I was holding her foot.
Leaning forward, Linda “kiss her forehead.”
She moved her hand across Grandma’s left hand.
One fluid movement.
Grandma’s eyes opened then.
The diamond glittered under the fluorescent lights for a single second.
It vanished in an instant.
went straight into Linda’s cardigan pocket.
I went cold.
Grandma’s eyes opened then.
