Ring: A Decision

Ring-a small band, usually of precious metal, worn on a finger and often a symbol of love

Its weight is slight, almost insignificant as it rests in the palm of my hand, but its strength has been enduring. I recall the smooth feel of it when Ron slipped it on my finger oh, so, many years ago, at the beginning of its journey.

We have arrived at the end.

I consider the circle of silver carefully, marveling at the births and vacations and graduations and marriages it has seen, the injuries and surgeries and hospitalizations that might have dulled its shine but didn’t.

Not even death.

I pick up the square black velvet box from my dresser and open it slowly. Inside is the mate to the ring in my hand, larger and bulkier, the ring Ron’s painfully swollen finger could not endure for the last 18 months of his life.

“I’m keeping your ring,” I whispered to him on that final day. “I’ll keep it safe because you are still my husband.”

The two rings lay side by side on my palm now: the smaller one strong enough to bear the weight of care-giving and loss, the larger one strong enough to bear the weight of pain and sorrow.

A tear slides down my cheek. I am making a decision today, but it is not irrevocable. This small unbroken ring of silver has encircled my finger for the last 20 months while Ron’s has slumbered in the black box.

I can put it back on if I need it.

Tenderly, I slip the two rings—together—into the square box and close the lid quietly, whispering another promise.

“I am no less committed to you now than on the day these rings were new.”

For a moment, I feel the ache of emptiness on my finger, the pain of loss that is always in my heart. I take a deep breath and pick up another ring, also silver, with three small diamonds on its band, the ring Ron gave me on one of the last birthdays we had together.

Past. Present. Future.

Ron is now in my past and for the moment, I stand in the present alone while he waits in heaven, whole and healthy. But he is also in my future.

I will see him again.

I slip the band with the diamonds onto my hand and stow the box with the two silver wedding rings in my jewelry case.

Despite their small sizes, they endured.

We endured.

I endure.