regrets

a long time ago, someone broke into our apartment and stole (among other things) my grandfather's wedding ring, which my mother had given to me. as i only got to meet him once, it was a very meaningful reminder. it didn't bother me much before; i just rationalized it as "it's still ours, wherever it is." but now it is sort of creeping up on me. guess i should try to get back to that zen space.