It’s funny how a piece of jewelry could be connected to so many emotions. Not only do my rings remind me of our engagement and the excitement after, they remind me of our vows and how special they were to me; to vow yourself to another forever. They also mean family to me and they mean having someone who loves you and someone you also love. These rings mean the love of two babies twirling them around and around with their little fingers as they held my hand while being fed. They mean holding hands and love. They mean seeing prisms when the sun passes through them bringing little rainbows all around, for rainbow loving little ones to see, excitedly. These rings meant a connection and a union between me and another. A promise to be kept forever. Theses rings meant questions from my babies as they grew and admired them, just as I have admired the rings my mother wore. To me her ring meant family and to me, mine did too.
After my mother passed away, one of my strongest memories of her physically was of her hands. Her hands took care of me, loved me, fixed me meals, drove the car, patted my leg lovingly. Her hands played the piano, the organ, the ukulele, the guitar. Her hands, her rings, family, love.
My children didn’t like it when I removed my rings, nor did I. They meant something to me. They meant family. They meant a connection to my husband, they meant a promise to him, they meant a life we started and now removed they mean a life we ended and now they are seperate from me because he broke our promise.
My children won’t remember the ringed finger on my hand like I remember my moms, they won’t remember what it was like to have their family together, intact. They won’t remember any happy times the 4 of us had because they’re too young. They’ll remember just living with me and that’s ok but I always wanted them to have it all. Too bad these are promises I only intended to keep.
Life is hard. Just got to keep moving on.