I haven't felt much like blogging for the past several weeks. When I posted the story of Dad's peaceful passing, I felt purged, yet my voice was stifled. It has been quite an adjustment to get used to him not being around. We talked on the phone several times a week. I was just getting used to not talking to Mom, as she has been in the nursing home since February.
I belong to a blogging group known as the Group Blogging Experience #2 (GBE2). We have a weekly prompt and then need to tailor a post around it. This week it is a picture of two wedding rings.
I keep looking at this picture thinking that there is no way I can write about it. I am not married. I have no immediate plans to marry. What good will it do for a 30-something year-old to write about her dreams of marriage? That's so cliche.
I took my dog on a walk to clear my head. We both needed to get out of the house and the relentless rainfall had finally cleared a little. On the way we ran into a neighbor I haven't seen in almost a year. She wanted to know how my summer was going. I told her about Dad.
A couple of hours earlier, another neighbor was walking past with her dog when I got home from running errands. Same story.
I hopped back on Facebook and was confronted again with the picture. This time, I got a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes.
I may not have my own wedding ring as a symbol of love from a significant other, but I have been collecting rings over the past year. My grandmother, Dad's mom, passed away in September of 2010. As we were going through the last of her jewelry, we came across her wedding band. It had been cut off of her prior to her hip surgery some years ago and she never got around to fixing it. With the cut, though, it perfectly fits my pinkie finger. (Grandma was a tiny woman.)
When Dad went into the hospital, he purposely left behind his wedding ring and a cameo ring. I wore them a lot when I was home and he was in the ICU. After he died, I brought them both home with me. Sometimes, when I feel that I need his help in something, I put them on again.
Mom still has hers and I wouldn't dream of taking it away from her. I am sure that some day I will also inherit that one.
Having the rings of my loved ones makes me feel slightly connected to them, even though they are no longer here.