life, love,art. heart failure and assorted ramblings

life, love,art. heart failure and assorted ramblings

Don't Talk Like That...

I write to find out what my heart thinks....
I write to expose and work through the ugly parts of this disease, open heart surgery that was less than successful and more recently an S-ICD (internal cardiac defibrillator) implanted in my chest that will hopefully restore my heart beat in case of sudden cardiac death. I am here to celebrate my life, to uncover my fears, to hold on to love, to learn how to live a full life with heart failure, to honor my creativity, and to explore all of my emotions out loud ...before anyone can say
"Don't talk like that!"


Music is loading really slow lately...sorry...

Thursday, December 25, 2014

The Spirit of Phoebus

The Phoebus Ring. 

The ring was my grandfathers, William T. Phoebus. Carved into the stone and built up on the sides in silver and gold are tributes to the Greek God Phoebus. Phoebus is the god of Light, Prophecy, Music, Poetry, and the Arts and Sciences, and is by far the noblest conception of Greek mythology. He is the god that pulls the sun (light) across the sky every day in this chariot.

My grandfather died at 45 from an unexpected heart attack, a connection that I never expected, but a connection that only I share with him. I never knew him but I remember asking my grandmother about his ring she always wore; it really was a large awkward ring for her delicate fingers. She would always tell me a story about my grandfather and end every story with, the ring was his and a part of his family history, and that she was then and always would be a part of that history. When my grandmother died my mother fell heir to, and wore the Phoebus ring, she and her father had the most spectacular relationship I think I have ever known between a father and a daughter. In Sept, of 2006 she gave the ring to me. To give up her father's ring was more than any typical act of giving. It is one of the most amazing gifts I have ever received.

Unfortunately at its age and significant daily wear, some of the prongs had broken off and the stone was very loose. Several different retail jewelers refused to make the repairs, I suspect because of its antiquity and liability issues. So for 8 years it has been put away, only worn on special occasions for fear of losing that irreplaceable carved stone. My dear friend, Terry, happened to run into an old friend of hers, a jeweler and in the course of their conversation the Phoebus ring came up. He told Terry it might be fixable, he would like to see it. I met with him 8 weeks ago and yesterday (Christmas Eve) I got back the Phoebus ring, beautifully repaired and cleaned.

The ring is a part of my family history. It will be my every day reminder that I am infused with the spirit of Phoebus and part of the Phoebus family history.
"Family of Srtangers"  Ann Reed

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