The Ring

Dad's arrived, safe and sound, and still his old self. Strong, enjoying his children and grandchildren, able to talk about mom without too much heartache.

He brought a few mementos for us too. Among the many things I recieved was her wedding ring. And when he gave it to me, he turned away for a brief silence.

That must have been the hardest thing he's had to do today, perhaps for a long time. To give away the ring he placed on her finger 36 years ago, a symbol of their devotion and love, their everlasting soulmate status. The ring she never took off. A simple band of plain gold, slightly oval to fit her finger. Harder than showing us the two containers with her ashes, or handing over a life-story journal she's begun (and once mentioned she'd like me to continue with). Harder than talking over her service or that he'll eventually move out of the house they've shared.

I may never marry. It's likely that I will forever be single. But I will keep her wedding ring, and perhaps wear it now and then - not on my ring finger, her fingers were slimmer than mine, even when her hands swelled up unbelieveably. But on another finger, as a reminder of the woman who birthed and raised me. The woman I never really knew.