Wedding Blog

OK, OK, I’m late. I promised to post about my next something way back in May but then never got around to it. I have no excuses. You’ve seen my something borrowed, so now, here’s my something old…

My something old is really old. It’s the oldest anything in my family and besides my engagement ring, the one thing I cherish the most (people not included).

The earrings belonged to my maternal grandma Isabel and before her, to her mother. Great Grandma Joey died when grandma Joey was about 8 years old. These earrings mean a lot because they belonged to Grandma Joey and we were really close when she was alive. I actually think that apart from when we or she was on vacation, I saw her at least once a week until she died when I was 12 years old.

So these earring are special to me not only because they are hers, but also because of the story behind them.

During WWII, my grandparents were still living in the Philippines. When the Japanese soldiers arrived in their area, the decision was made that my grandpa and his brother would leave and hide in the jungle until the soldiers left. Everyone in the area had heard stories of what happened to Filipino men when the soldiers arrived. Most were killed and lot were taken as servants and were abused. My grandma stayed. My Mom said she made herself ugly to survive. Mama Joey said that meant my grandma made herself look dirty, wore clothes that were too big (unflattering) and never wore makeup or did her hair. Apparently the things the soldiers did to the pretty women were horrible. I can’t even begin to describe what my Mom told me, so I won’t.

My grandma was taking care of 4 little ones at the time, and things seem to be going OK for a while. They had enough to eat, and for the most part, the soldiers left them alone. Then my uncle and aunt got sick — really sick. My grandma brought doctors in but nothing could be done without medicine. She tried to buy some, but there was none to be had anywhere. She sold anything with value in hopes of finding medicine on the black market, but there was nothing. The soldiers were not permitting medical supplies into their area. Eventually my grandma lost both children. She never speaks of that time of her life. Everything we know about it was pieced together from my 2 aunts that did survive, my grandpa, and his brother.

In the end, she didn’t sell everything. She didn’t sell the earrings or the matching ring. They were the only things she saved from her life before that great loss. I only remember her wearing the earrings at weddings. Well, I only remember from one picture from one wedding.

When Grandma Joey died, my aunts (4 of them) divided up her things. My mom didn’t want to be there so she told my aunts she didn’t care what she got as long as she got those earrings. My Mom was already saving them for me. She had hoped to get the ring too, but she didn’t. We’re not exactly sure who got it or where it is. One of my aunts thought she had it and offered to give it to me but when she looked, it turns out it wasn’t the one they were looking for.

The stones in the earrings are suppose to be black diamonds. I’m not sure if they are, I’ve never had them checked, and I don’t really care. My Mom says the earrings are from around 1905-ish. Some of the stones are chipped, but I’m not going to have them replaced. I will have the earrings cleaned, though.

If I could have anyone attend my wedding—anyone, dead or alive—it would be her. Since I can’t, I’m wearing these—my something treasured, my something hers, my something old.

Does your something old have a story behind it?