Yesterday I dropped my Lapis Lazuli band on the floor, and it shattered into six pieces. I had that Lapis Lazuli band since October. I wore it every day since October. Losing it sucked. Losing it destroyed me in the moment, and the hours to come. Here was this thing that was a part of me for almost an entire year, and now it was in pieces. I wanted to cry, but I was at work; and when I was left alone the time had passed and I could not find the tears.
I went to a jeweler to see what he could do. Could the ring be welded back together? Could silver piece together the broken Lapis Lazuli? No, not without spending hundreds of dollars. But the jeweler did offer something to me, unintentionally – his words.
“Oh no,” he said as I have him the shards of Lapis, “how’d this happen?”
Before I could explain how I dropped the ring, he answered for me.
“Life happened, huh? It broke because you were just living.”
Yes. There was comfort there. Ultimately, I was being very sentimental about this ring that, quite frankly, I was very lucky to have for so many months without breaking – and that it broke was no freak accident, but just, life. If I have nice things like rings of Lapis Lazuli, then by living life, I’m going to break or lose nice things.
So mote it be.