Here is the rest of what I had for you. I know that you don't want any of it, but whatever. If you don't want to see it, don't look.

I bought this for you for Christmas, when we were still friends, just after the vase with the matching flowers. It's the same pattern. When you wind it, it plays Pachelbel. Oh, and going back to the other ones, I forgot to tell you that the silver violin was the thing I bought you that time to congratulate you when you first planned your entire program yourself.

These are kind of silly. I was on a rose kick after you were so pleased with the ones I'd given you. Earrings and a brooch. Antique.

Just something I picked up on a whim in an antique store, that I thought you might like. Portfolio of old records. Classical music, of course.

This was for your mom, that same Christmas. When she still loved me. I had one for your dad too, but I sent it to him when I heard that he was sick. I don't know if he ever received it, or if he accepted it or just threw it away.

And then there's this...

I spent years searching for the perfect setting, then for the best diamond for it--both of which together would suit and match you, I thought. I then took them to a jeweler to have the stone set, and when I saw the result, it was even better than I'd hoped. The second most beautiful thing I've ever seen. It kind of looks like you, in a way. I thought the filigrees on the side looked like musical clefs or the cutouts and curves of a violin. And they also reminded me of your hair, of the pretty little braids around your face. And the bright, fair, brilliant, heart-shaped diamond is like your face itself. Once it was done, the box it came in wasn't nearly good enough, so I found this silver one in an antique shop, and arranged the interior to hold the ring. I thought the blue would bring out the fire in the diamond.

I had hoped one day to see your face when I gave it to you. But now I just want you to have seen it.