My Father’s Cross

Growing up, there was an old box of family jewelry tucked away in our home that I never paid much attention to. One day I looked through it and discovered a cross. I asked my mom and she told me it belonged to my dad. I was surprised because I had never seen him wear it before.
I wear the cross every day now. My family is Greek and we follow the Greek Orthodox faith that is very important to us. Not just a religion, but a way of life woven into our culture and identity. My mom was born in Greece and when she came to New York she brought that faith with her, passing it down to our family. The cross represents sacrifice and resurrection, but this one also represents connection.
Wearing this cross makes me think about my dad. Every time I look at it I am reminded of who he is. Wearing something that once belonged to him feels very meaningful because every time I am in doubt, I look at this cross and think about what my dad would do. My dad may have put it down but I know I was meant to pick it up and make it part of my identity and my story.
Sometimes the most meaningful things can find you. You just have to be curious enough to go looking.

The Cross That Traveled With Us

When my mom left Lithuania to start a new life in New York City, she didn’t bring many belongings with her. But she did bring one small object: a beaded cross that now hangs from the rearview mirror in our family’s car. To anyone else, it might look like a simple decoration, but to us it represents protection, memory, and the feeling of being watched over.
My mom grew up surrounded by Catholic and Orthodox traditions, and this cross was something familiar she could hold onto when everything else felt uncertain. When she first arrived in New York, she didn’t know the language, the streets, or the people. Hanging the cross in her car became a quiet ritual that made her feel safer. Over time, it became part of our family’s daily life. Every time we drive, it swings gently with the movement of the car, reminding us of where we come from and the journey that brought us here.
As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized how much meaning is wrapped up in this small object. It carries my mom’s courage, her faith, and the hope she had when she left home. It also connects me to a larger story shared by many immigrant families who bring pieces of their past with them to feel grounded in a new place. This cross is more than an ornament, it is a symbol of protection, heritage, and the path my family took to build a life in America.

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