When my sister Alicia died, I was six. Memories of her come in flashes\u2014her laugh in the kitchen, the strawberry scent of her lip gloss, bedtime stories I barely understood were our last.<\/p>\n
She was 17 when she died in an accident. After the funeral, Mom turned her into a saint. Her room became a shrine, and I was just the little sister left behind.<\/p>\n
When I was 12, Mom let me help go through Alicia\u2019s things. I found a simple silver ring with a blue stone. It fit perfectly. I asked if I could keep it. \u201cIt\u2019s nothing valuable,\u201d Mom said. But to me, it was everything.<\/p>\n
For nine years, I kept that ring safe. It was my quiet connection to Alicia, a reminder that I had loved her too\u2014even if I was too young to remember everything.<\/p>\n
Then, last weekend, at a family lunch, my brother Daniel proposed to his girlfriend. And he used\u00a0my<\/em>\u00a0ring\u2014Alicia\u2019s ring.<\/p>\n Everyone clapped. I froze. Mom smiled at me like nothing was wrong. Afterward, I confronted her. She said Daniel asked, and they thought it was \u201csweet.\u201d When I reminded her I had cherished that ring for years, she brushed me off. \u201cIt\u2019s just a ring,\u201d she said. Again.<\/p>\n Daniel didn\u2019t see the problem either. \u201cYou were six. You barely knew her,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n I felt erased.<\/p>\n So I told him if he didn\u2019t return it, I\u2019d tell Rose, his fianc\u00e9e, where the ring came from. He called me selfish.<\/p>\n Days later, I met Rose. I told her everything. She listened quietly, then took the ring off and gave it back. \u201cIt never belonged to me,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n Daniel was furious. My parents called me dramatic and told me I\u2019d ruined the engagement. But all I did was reclaim something that had kept my sister\u2019s memory alive for nine years.<\/p>\n Now, with the ring back on my finger, I ask: Was I really wrong to want it back?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" When my sister Alicia died, I was six. Memories of her come in flashes\u2014her laugh in the kitchen, the strawberry scent of her lip gloss, bedtime stories I barely understood were our last. She was 17 when she died in an accident. After the funeral, Mom turned her into a saint. Her room became a…<\/p>\n