Rings On (and Off) Our Fingers

My darling husband made a confession when he recently returned home from an out-of-town film shoot, and honestly? Had he not mentioned this I have no clue when I would have noticed (eagle eye that I am most definitely not): Steve lost his wedding ring. Apparently he had taken it off while performing (his character in the movie was unattached), and stowed it for safekeeping in his wallet. At some point, getting gas, or coffee, or something, the ring had fallen out. It’s gone for good, and poor Stevo was quite upset. 

As it is, I have no right to criticize him. For I, too, am a ring-loser. Several times over, in fact. The first ring that disappeared was my beloved Nana’s. It was beautiful, and I have no idea why anyone would have entrusted 13-year-old me with it upon Nana’s death in 1970…me, who couldn’t keep track of her homework, “borrowed” clothing items, or anything else. I do recall the pang I felt when a panicked search yielded zilch (I have precious few mementos from my grandmother), but it wasn’t pang enough to keep me from repeat performances. 

Years later, my engagement ring was on-and-off my finger with regularity—sometimes the dramatic climax of an argument (and there were a few!), sometimes the absent-minded result of removing it to wash dishes. It always found its way back to me, until the fateful day I was vacuuming the living room. Suddenly I glanced down, and the little diamond (all S. could afford back in the day) had fallen out of its setting. I spotted it on the floor before it was suctioned up. I learned a very valuable lesson that day: never vacuum again.

The diamond languished in a baggie in a drawer for ages. I obviously wasn’t motivated enough to get it reset. Finally, I offered it to Sheridan to give to Ya-Jhu. He had it reset, and it has a sparkly new life with Yaj. It hasn’t been misplaced once in their 13 years together, and I’m positive it’s quite safe. 

Nowadays, my hands sport just a plain gold band on one finger, and on another, a ring belonging to my late sister Mo. I wouldn’t be shocked if these rings were also lost at some point, because that seems to be the way I roll, jewelry-wise. It does bother me, though, that in this one area I am just like my careless Mom. Joanie lost EVERYTHING—expensive bracelets, sweaters, Dad’s paychecks before they could be deposited—once, she accidentally threw away a large wrought-iron wall hanging! That, my friends, is not easy to do!

Gotta tell you, Steve’s sad feelings about this vanished symbol of our sacred union meant as much, if not more, to me than the silly ring itself. A ring, I reassured him, is very replaceable, and I’m sure it WILL be replaced. He, and our enduring love, are irreplaceable. 

Whatever else I lose track of in this life, let me never forget that.