For this week’s post, I am once again focusing on my family ring: my Irish Claddagh ring. To reiterate, the ring is an object that has been passed down to me through the generations. It began in the possession of my great nana, gifted to her at the later stages of her life. After she passed, it fell into the hands of my grandmother who held onto it until I became of age at thirteen to become to official owner of the ring. This is a family tradition for all the girls on my father’s side of my family, meaning my sister also was given a passed down Claddagh ring when she became a teenager. However, after a recent family discussion, it came to my knowledge that the ring my sister possesses has a much richer family history than my own. Though I am a bit envious of the story behind her ring, I am grateful that I was able to ask my grandmother about it and delve into more of my family’s wonderful history.

The ring my sister has traces back to–and I’m going to hope you can follow this, because it took me awhile to understand–my grandmother’s grandmother’s mother-in-law. So, in other words, the ring comes from the mother of the husband of my grandma’s grandma. I’m not sure if there’s a simpler term for that, but that’s what the text I received regarding the ring’s history says, and so that is what I will write.

The woman who was the first owner of my family ring had been given it by her first fiancee as an engagement ring. He was an irishman through and through, and it had been his own family tradition to propose with Claddagh rings. The woman herself was not Irish, but seeing that she was about to marry into a heavily Irish influenced family, she accepted and wore it proudly. They were engaged for a few brief months until, sadly, the man, who I believe was named Angus, died suddenly. My grandma does not know the details of his passing, other than that the woman was utterly heartbroken.

She carried the ring with her, even as she married her second and last husband who was, fittingly, Irish as well. This man ended up being my grandmother’s great grandfather… if I’ve drawn out the family tree correctly. The ring fell into his possession and he gave it to his first daughter, unknowingly beginning a long line of Claddagh rings given to the women in our family. I am unsure of the details of the rest of the path of my sister’s ring, but I am positive that it has touched, physically and emotionally, many lives throughout my family. Unfortunately, I do not have images of the ring, since my sister has it stashed away somewhere safe in her bedroom back home, but I found an image online that looks very similar to it:

Though its appearance does not differ greatly from mine, it is a bit more tarnished and the band shows signs of bending and warping.

It is amazing to me that stories such as the one I’ve told exist in my family. I have never been one to ask much about the history of my lineage. Rather, I’ve accepted that I come from a long line, beginning somewhere in Ireland many centuries ago. However, now every time I put on my necklace with my ring dangling from it, I am reminded of how rich my family history is and of how great of a story there is behind these little heirlooms that my sister and I carry around with us. I hope that someday, down the line, the ring that I pass down will accumulate a great deal of detail and stories to be told to future generations within my family.