I was a teenager when I first wore this ring.
Dean and I bought these simple silver bands for each other as a symbol of our love , and I was proud to wear it on the third finger of my right hand.
Traditionally, wedding rings are worn on the left hand, but due to some strange growth anomaly it didn’t quite fit properly, and was prone to sliding off. I was rake-thin then, and my fingers were bony. The ring still slid about on my other hand, but was more secure.
I was distraught when we took a trip to Bethells Beach once, and after splashing around in the inlet that leads to the ocean, got out to find the ring was gone. I can still feel that punch of sorrow and grief in my gut now, as if I had literally lost our love and all that it meant.
After about ten minutes of frantically digging around in the sand, we found it.
That incident has been a metaphor for many of our ups and downs over our seventeen years together, as we grew together as adults. Somehow though, we always managed to find the ring.
Neither of us have ever lived alone. We both lived with our parents for the first five years of our relationship before moving in together after we married in 2000, in a ceremony that had absolutely no legal standing or recognition.
We had our rings engraved on the inside with each other’s name, and the date of our union, May 6.
Our twenties came and went, and my skeletal fingers became thicker as I put on weight. My ring was now part of me, and couldn’t come off without surgery. It was a strong bond.
I remember when I was younger looking at the wedding rings on the hands of my mum and dad, and how they too were tightly bound to the skin. Not dangerously so, but enough that they looked like they had always been there, part of them.
I feel like that myself now. I cannot remember what life was like before Dean, except in memories of a person that no longer exists.
He was a kid who felt unlovable, ugly, alien. Someone who was destined to be forever alone. It took a long time for that kid to fade away, and by the time he did, he had made many mistakes. Dean put up with all of them.
About a year ago, my ring developed a crack. A clean, straight cut.
“You should be able to get it off now,” Dean said.
The opportunity was certainly there. I could use the break to prize the ring apart and slide it past my joints, but I worried that the years had made it fragile, and I didn’t want it to snap in two.
Sometimes we remain in denial about things even when they are right in front of us. We hope that things will somehow work out if we just keep going in the same direction, because we’re too frightened to change course.
It’s like sitting at a bus stop late at night, a few minutes after the last bus is scheduled to arrive. Is it still coming, or have you missed it? How much longer do you wait in the darkness before you admit to yourself that the bus is gone?
I will never forget what this ring symbolizes, and all the years, memories and love that it holds. But I cannot ignore the split any longer.
With deep sadness, it’s time to take it off.
It’s curious how much importance we invest in objects associated with our loved ones sometimes…
I was in Norway a year and a half ago and I got really upset when I thought I’d forgotten my gloves at a bus station. My boyfriend had left Ireland (where I’m from and where our story played out) for America (where he’s from) only a few weeks previous and I was still feeling lost without him. He had given me those gloves on my birthday. I didn’t even like them that much, if I’m being honest, but they were so tied to my memories of him that I was shattered when I thought I’d lost them.
Anyway, this was a touching post. You write well. Obviously it comes from the heart.
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thx for sharing x
Beautifully written as always… *hugs*
Big hugs from Sydney Chris. Love conquors all.
Best future, love and fortune to both you and Dean. I’ll forever consider you a friend, Chris.
Thanks so much, mate. x
Big hug from Brisbane! I can understand what you’re going through, and I don’t want this to sound callous but, the ring is just an object that you’ve invested a lot of meaning in. I think your bond with Dean is much stronger than a metal ring. Big hug again! Was really bummed we didn’t get to catch up when I was in town! Was hoping to give you a real hug!
I can so relate to your feelings, Chris. I have yet to find my male soulmate (I admire and admit to some jealousy that you were lucky enough to find yours at such a relatively young age) – but had a relationship with a woman who I feel was my female soulmate until she died of cancer in 2004. We were literally Will & Grace… lovers who became best friends ‘until death surely did us part’. I have a friendship ring that she bought me in the early 90′s which I never take off… and has become very much a part of me, as you describe. And were I to need to remove this ring, I know that I would have to go through a significant grieving period. Hopefully, you and Dean will be able to come up with another piece of symbolism which will come to mean as much to you, in time.
Good luck with the transition, my friend!
Hugs
Tis better to have loved and lost, than never have loved at all.
We haven’t lost. It’s just a change. But thank you.
Beautifully worded!
Beautifully written, but oh so sad. Tucked away in a drawer I have my unused wedding ring from my 13 year relationship which split ( the relationship, not the ring) six weeks before our planned civil union at the beginning of 2010. Big hugs Chris… take care
Healing hugs.
If I have inferred correctly from what you just wrote I hope you are okay, and I am sending you a big hug from the other side of this planet.
Alex