Locked away, you are perched on my rib, your body bouncing with my movement.
You laugh with my heart, vibrating with its beat, leaning forward to my life’s surprises.
Locked away, you flicker your eyes up to mine, our silent love language fluent
In each other’s simple realisations. Together we work through and scrutinise,
Working out the best way for my feet to find, on my long journey back to your side.
I wrote my post “Why I Wear A Locket” on the 27th March, 2019. In the post, I talk about how I chose an amber pendant that was my mum’s for myself after mum passed away. As my luck had the habit of doing back then, the amber pendant broke and popped out of its case. The amber was shattered.
But my necklace, an amber pendant, popped out of its case and the jeweller told us that the amber was so cracked that the pendent was irreparable.
It was almost laughable.Why I bought a locket
I am often fascinated in life with the idea of “I wish future me could come and tell me it was all worth it!” So I wanted to revisit this post with you.
Life was so tough for me back then, and I was so lost that I was trying to do everything by an imaginary text book in order to get through the early grief days.
I had heard about people having lockets, so I thought I would try that and see if it was useful for me too.
The locket I chose was the replica of a silver locket my mum bought for me. I never liked the locket she bought me (Sorry Mum!). My opinion was that it was a bit childish looking, too large, and not delicate at all. To think of replacing it filled me with guilt, especially after her death when anything my mum gave me should have been invaluable.
So, when I found my golden locket with the same flowers up the side that my silver one had, I felt such a pull to it.
Now, looking back and pausing with reflection, it is pretty remarkable that I found this exact locket, at the moment I needed it most. When I took it home, I kept it in its box, and took it out to look at it against the crushed blue velvet it sat against. I think I felt that, really, I didn’t deserve something so beautiful. In fact, it would probably be safer to have the clunky one my mum bought for me. After all, she chose it.
But when the pictures were slid into the locket, I knew it was the right one for me. The locket has bright red material that holds the pictures in place almost in reverence.
When I wore the locket, I imagined my mum was with me, seeing everything I was seeing, and giving me strength every time I needed it.
My locket became an important talisman for me to wear when grief crushed the life out of me. The subtle gold heart became an important symbol that my mum existed, and that once I was happy. My locket became my mum’s way to witness my life as I lived it.
The golden heart was my hope.
When I met new people with my locket on, I almost always wanted someone to notice that it was a locket and ask what was in it. A couple of people did, and for those who didn’t I would say “It’s a locket!” If it ever got complimented. I would open up my heart for them to gaze upon, and they would say simply and politely “that’s nice”. I would gaze adoringly at my locket, proud of the fact that I had done this for myself. They had no idea the depth of the meaning.
Gradually, my locket has become deeper in its meaning. Before, I used to wander around aimlessly missing my mum, leaving the locket open as if to bear my pain to the world. Now I am in a place where I want to protect my grief, and my mum. I have learnt I cannot trust that my loss will be respected by everyone, so I keep my locket shut, and if people ask what is in it, I say “a picture of my family”. They simply and politely respond with “that’s nice”.
I think my locket has become a sign of me developing with my grief. Now I do not want to tell anyone who listens about my mum. I want to write about her, look at photos of her, and talk about her only with people I absolutely trust. Not just for her memory, but for my sanity. It is a foreign idea for me that some of my friends who consider us close do not know about my mum and our story. Yet they see me with my locket, my medal of grief around my neck. Not knowing what it holds.
I was so inspired by reading my old post about my locket. The old post is poorly written, and I feel it lacks the emotion I felt about my necklace. My favourite paragraph is
But most importantly, when I feel sad and weak, and that every day coming is yet another uphill battle, when I put on my locket, I am reminded of my Mum’s strength, which I have in me, and also that she is here with me; in this physical picture and in this beautiful heart.why i bought a locket
It is comforting to me, that this is still exactly what my locket means to me, 2 years on.