I took my wedding ring off a couple of weeks ago. It wasn’t thought out or planned. I took it off when I was painting and put it on my dresser not thinking much of it at all. I just didn’t want to get paint all over it. I finished painting and showered and picked the ring up off of my dresser and stood with it in my hand. It held so much for me. So many memories and so much love shared. I remember when Donnie and I spoke of getting engaged “one day”. One of his friends had bought his girlfriend this elaborate expensive ring. I told him not to dare spend that kind of money on me. I didn’t need it. All I needed was a band and him and that was enough for me. He informed me that if I wanted to marry him, I would get what he gave me. I will say that he did a good job picking out the ring. It was beautiful. Simple and understated, just like me. I didn’t need a ring that screamed from the rooftop saying LOOK AT ME! It suited me, perfectly.
So here I stood 12 years after the day that he gave me that ring and I made the decision not to put it back on my finger. I hadn’t planned it. It just felt like it was time. It was time for me to move on. I am not Donnie’s wife anymore. I am, but I am not. I am his widow. My hand felt like it was missing part of itself. That ring has been on my hand for so long. But my heart knew that it was time and it knew that with or without that ring, I will always have what Donnie and I shared.
So I took out the small ring box that held Donnie’s wedding ring and put mine inside beside his and smiled and knew that is exactly where it was supposed to be. They were meant to be together. Just like he and I were .