I’ve been trying to get my head around last week’s break in, but I’ve had a few stumbling blocks. It certainly could have been worse, I tell myself. Thank goodness J. and I weren’t home so neither of us got hurt. I’m so relieved that Jelly was in her crate or who knows what the bad guy might have done to her. Our home could have been left in greater disarray, and a lot more of our possessions could have vanished. And hopefully soon, insurance will address the damaged door and frame so we can rid ourselves of the 2 x 4 currently securing us inside.
Who cares about a stolen iPad that was so old it crashed all the time? The replacement, which we bought this weekend, is quite a step up. Booze is easy to replenish too. I can buy another knapsack–a constant companion on my last several vacations–and a new pillow case. All that is just stuff.
Would we be sailing through this had we lost our television or computer, items that we didn’t have the same connection to and that could easily have been replaced? Stuff that’s just stuff? Maybe. Unfortunately, what we’ve lost is much more special than that. It’s not the monetary value of what the bad guy took; it’s the meaning and memories associated with it. Recreating a list of these lost items for our insurance company has not been easy. Sure, we will receive some money to cover the losses, but what we’ve lost isn’t replaceable. Can anyone put a price on sentimental value? I can’t.
Our jewellery is part of us and our history. Anyone who knows me knows I’m not adorned with jewels daily, but what I had I cherished and wore on special occasions. J. adorned herself every day, however. Each morning, just before she’d leave for work, J. would dip in to her jewelry box to find something to go with her outfit for the day. And because she has a remarkable memory, her selection would take her back to where she was and what she was doing at the moment she acquired that piece. There were so many associations with trips and special occasions and there were beautiful finds in unlikely places in those jewelry boxes.
If I didn’t have cancer, if it hadn’t been such a stressful year, if we weren’t unable to travel, would our losses feel so huge? Probably not. Now that we’ve lost these precious items, how much time do we have to create new memories? I’m trying not to think about that.
Thankfully, J. and I are solid in a crisis, and we can count on one another for support. Visiting sleazy pawn shops and flea markets would be a lot harder on our own. Nothing has turned up yet but you can bet if it does, we’ll find it. Detective Annie is on the case, and Kijiji is my new bestie. I’m not especially hopeful that we’ll find anything, and at some point, I’ll probably give up the search, but I’m not ready to do that yet. Neither is J., who is, by nature, a persistent little brat. I do love her for that.