The bracelet my now-estranged daughter gave me fell apart on the day I received her goodbye letter.
Renee and I had just returned from a getaway to the Pacific northwest. We soaked in the scenery, ate well, and of course, did some shopping. I’m fond of simple, earthy jewelry and accessories, and while there I bought a blue and brown leather bracelet. I’ll get back to that in a minute.
I’m not especially religious, but I do like much of what I’ve learned about Buddhism. It’s a philosophy that serves me well via its central message: If I remain attached to a desired outcome, I’m setting myself up to suffer. That’s an oversimplification, of course.
My daughter has many gifts, including artistry. Years ago she drew a pencil Buddha that’s about 10 feet from me as I write this. She also gave me a bracelet with a tiny Buddha pendant that I treasured.
I’m a bit of a raconteur, and I do love and utilize narrative therapy. The day I received the devastating news that my child had chosen to sever our connection, not only did I fall apart, but the Buddha bracelet did too. I was removing it as I changed clothes, and in an instant it went from being a bracelet to being a pile of scattered pieces. The moment was not lost on me. I gathered them up and put them away.
The blue and brown bracelet from Seattle, which I came to possess just before the estrangement began, has stayed together. It’s on my wrist now, in fact, and it’s not a painful reminder. I could choose to see it as a symbol of resilience, but I hadn’t given that any thought until now. I love a compelling story as much as anyone, and I could choose to designate this piece of leather and copper as some symbol of my life’s greatest pain.
I do not.
These items do not have inherent meaning. That’s an intangible quality bestowed upon something of my choosing. And what I choose is to detach this item from the pain. It is neither a physical manifestation of pain nor of resilience. It simply is. Possibly.
Not long ago I took pieces from the broken Buddha bracelet and assembled them as a necklace. It too broke within a couple of weeks. What that means is, well, also pretty much nothing. It might mean that I’m not very good at making jewelry. And I can live with that.
