The Ring

Almost forty two years ago Bonnie gave me a simple white gold wedding band.  I remember walking down the streets of Gatlinburg, on our honeymoon, twisting that band back and forth, trying to get used to it being on my hand.  Sometime, several years ago, Bonnie gave me a yellow gold band to wear because my watch and glasses were yellow gold.  I tried that for awhile, but gave up the fashion statement for her original, white gold band.  That was the one that was special to me.  It always will be.

This week, I did something I did not plan to ever do in my life on this earth.  I took that band off my hand.  It is now sitting on a crystal ring holder in a drawer.  My heart aches as I type this.  I have tears in my eyes as I remember when she slipped that ring onto my finger those many years ago.

The only person I've told, until now, about taking that ring off is my friend Glenn.  I don't know how it came up but it was during a telephone conversation.  Of course, I had difficulty in saying the things to him that I just typed.  In his gentle way, he asked my why I felt I needed to remove it.  He was not being judgemental.  He just wanted to know what brought me to that decision.

I'd been thinking about it for awhile.  I've come to believe it was something similar to taking that first ride in the SeaRay this spring, although on a much deeper level.  There are things that must be faced and sooner or later they will be.  These are things that tear at my heart strings, but grow more difficult with time. 

Continuing to wear the ring, as much as I love it and what it represents, was somehow beginning to feel like denial.  Bonnie is no longer physically here on this earth.  She is experiencing a new and wonderful life.  I am no longer physically married to Bonnie although the love will remain as long as my heart beats.  I have to face that.  She would want me to.  We'd even talked about that over the last couple of years.  We were close enough that we could do that.

So, with the greatest of respect, love and tenderness, I removed a symbol that had been on my hand for almost 42 years.   I carefully placed it in a drawer on a ring holder that was once Bonnie's.  That seemed somehow appropriate.  It had been hers, after all, as was I. 

That symbol still shows on my hand.  The finger is indented where it was.  My finger is also as white as snow where the ring once surrounded my finger.  Those too will fade with time.  My memories of, and love for, Bonnie will not.

She was given to me by God and it is to God that she has gone.  That is as it should be.  I must live my life without her.  I am facing that and accepting that.  The removal of 'the ring' was one more step toward that end.