Rings.

I took my rings off on September 19, 2024.

The day after the one year “anniversary” of Sean dying.  Now that I write that out, “anniversary” seems like the wrong word.  “Deathiversary” doesn’t really work (a bit much, even for me).  I hate saying phrases like, "passing" or, "gained his wings" or "Angel Day”, so, the anniversary of his death will have to do until I can figure out what phrase works best.

It wasn’t really a conscious choice - I took them off to wash my face at night and when I took them out of the little dish to put them back on, I just held them in my hand and looked at them.

During therapy, I would talk a lot about what I would see discussed in the FB support groups.  Maybe it was to see if my widow life was comparable - was I doing it right or was I doing it wrong?  Rings, moving, purging belongings and dating are 4 of the big topics that are constantly being discussed (aside from the understandable and usual “I miss him…” topics).

I stopped therapy at the end of June.  Partially because I wanted the summer off and partially because my therapist was leaving the practice.  Before she left, she set me up with a new one and I have had a few “as needed” sessions - both in person and virtual - when I feel I need it.  But we try to check in every 6 weeks or so.

I met with T2 (therapist 2) once over the summer, and once about a week before the anniversary.  I saw her again in October, right around what would have been our 5th anniversary.  Right away she noticed my non ringed finger.

T2: “I see you aren’t wearing your rings.”

KB: “I see you are rather observant.”
(See - I can still be smartass me, even in grief therapy.)

So we spoke about it.  We discussed the days the rings were put on my finger. 

I had a feeling that Sean would be proposing on our 2nd anniversary.  He made a big deal about where we were going for dinner and that we would be going back to the coffee house where we met.  We had rented a house to move into together, and it was just a feeling.  I told my friends that I thought it would be happening.  I had my nails done, hair blown out, took care of all the lady things we take care of, wore a dress I knew he loved.  He showed up at my house in quite the mood.  Seriously - grumpy as all fuck.  I even texted my friends during dinner when I went to the bathroom that I may have been wrong.  We went to the coffee shop, sat at the same table we sat at when we met, and when we were leaving, Mr. Pissed Off got down on his knee and started speaking.  Don’t ask me what he said - I was more focused on the flashing light I was seeing out of my right eye (I thought I was having another stroke, but it was the waitress taking pictures as he proposed.)  Finally I pulled it together and asked him “are you sure about this? Like 1000% sure?” He put the ring on my finger and I said yes.  One year later he added a wedding band.  The only time I ever took them off was when I cleaned the bathrooms or when we packed up our houses to move.

But on September 19, 2024 (one month before our 5th anniversary) I put them back in their ring box and put them in my drawer.

“Why did you take them off? And why that day?”

I didn’t really have an answer as to why I did it on the day I did.  It wasn’t like I jumped out of bed on the day and made that decision.  It wasn’t something I had planned.  In the groups, whenever the question is brought up (and it’s brought up a lot), you have two camps: the “when and if you’re ready” camp and the “my husband put it on my hand and I will nevereverevereverever take it off” camp.

I love my rings.  I love them for several reasons: 

1.  Sean loved me so much that he wanted to marry me and those rings represent that love and that commitment.

2. The diamond in my engagement ring was his (long story, but yes, my husband had a big ol’ honkin’ diamond ring that was as gaudy as anything you’ve ever seen, but it meant a lot to him and he took the solitaire and used it in my ring for a reason).

3. They're really, really pretty.

After he died, I would spin them on my finger - almost as a way of reassuring myself that they were there and he was there with me even though I couldn’t see him.  They were a comfort.

But, as time went on, I became worried about damaging them, having them slide off my fingers due to weight loss (the rings were sized up during our marriage thanks to our shared love of food and now they need to be sized down thanks to losing 65 pounds) or losing the diamond, and that made me nervous.  We never had them insured (which, I know, should have been done years ago), but it’s not about money with those rings.  The diamond is irreplaceable because of what it meant to Sean and why he used it in my ring.

While writing this, I looked up "widows removing their rings" (because, of course I did) and found that most of what is out there is pretty much the same information - some Ws never remove their rings, some remove them when they are ready to start dating again, some remove them because it is a constant reminder of what they lost.

The last two resonated.  I’m not dating, but I’ve given it a lot of thought.  Like I’ve said, life can be lonely and it’s fun being a we and not just a me (and a dog).  But I didn’t remove them because I am throwing myself into the dating lifestyle again.  Looking at my rings everyday was a constant reminder that the man who put them on my hand, would never hold that hand again.  Whenever Sean held my hand, he would rub his thumb on the underside of the rings - as if to let me know that he loved that they were there.

But there’s also the part of me that acknowledges (and it took a lot of work to say that out loud) that I am not the same person I was when those rings were given to me.  And I’m not the same person I was when the man who gave them to me closed his eyes for the very last time.

I’ve settled into a new normal, a new routine.  Yesterday I was watching Tombstone (my choice as Val Kilmer’s finest work) and I was looking around the living room and its new set up and I felt this sense of peace that I hadn’t really felt in a while.  I even told a friend that it felt like I had just moved into a new home.  I know I talk about it a lot - making changes that are better for me, but lately I’ve been working every day to make them happen.  The lists are back and I’ve been doing my best to work through them. Donating clothes, clearing out the two bedrooms (his office and the guest room).  I spend more time reading and less time zoned out in front of the TV (although Lexi insists on watching Portlandia all day while I am gone - I swear I am going to come home one day and she’ll be wearing hipster glasses and driving a Subaru covered in bumper stickers). And it feels ok. And it was time.

And that's what I told T2 when she asked why I took them off.

It was time.