I lost one of my weddings ring yesterday, I don’t know exactly when or where. I wore it yesterday morning when I left the house; when I took off my jewelry later in the afternoon, it was no longer in my right hand. I’ve been trying to think of where or when I might have lost it, but nothing comes to mind.
I’m not much of a jewelry person but I do have a few favorites. This is one of them. A♥ and I bought our first pair of rings- a pair of plain white gold bands- from a roving “Manang alahera” at the Philippine General Hospital. We paid for the rings in installments over six months, well, because we didn’t have much money of our own back then. (I was a junior clerk in medical school and he had been working just a little over a year.) They were cheap compared to the ones we got for our church wedding much later, but for both of us, they were worth so much more than gold and diamonds. The rings reaffirmed our desire to be together, back when it seemed impossible. They reminded us of how much our friendship and love endured over the years. And for a young couple with little money at the start of their marriage, those rings represented a commitment to build a life together, for better or worse.
It feels a little worrisome that I lost a wedding ring on our 25th year. But I don’t want to read anything more into it than what it was, a lousy accident in an otherwise okay day, and so I pray that it brings love to whomever finds it. My ring may have been lost, but I have years of memories to cherish and appreciate. Then again, perhaps it’s time to get a new ring to commemorate moving forward to the next 25 years. Let’s go find “Manang alahera” again, A♥.
P.S. That’s my ring there. How I miss it. 😞
UPDATE: The Ring
Last night, I went to bed thinking of all the things I did yesterday and retracing my steps. This morning, I woke up with a heavy sense of loss. I posted my ring story here on Facebook and then went about our day.
On Mondays, I try to clean our bedroom more thoroughly than other days and this afternoon was no exception. Against the odds, I hoped that my ring was just somewhere in our room, that it rolled off to some dusty corner waiting for me to find it again. As I often do on Mondays, I started my cleaning by stripping the bed off its sheets. Just for good measure, I whispered a prayer to St. Anthony again. I took off the sheets, brought them to the bathroom, and shook them there. Nothing. I strained to hear a clink against the tiles but none came. I did the same with each pillow, fluffing them at the same time. Disappointed, I placed the sheets and all eight pillows back. Afterwards, I took my sturdy pink broom (instead of the usual, the vacuum cleaner) and swept every corner. I even crawled under the bed to reach some hidden dust bunnies. Still not a sign of the ring. I finished by wiping down our things.
By then, I had given up; the ring was not in the room. I would have to move to another part of the house to look later. I had already been through the bathroom, even the trash cans, but the ring was nowhere. The kitchen would be my next stop.
I was mentally going through the list of things I would have to check when a wave of exhaustion swept over me. I sat down on the bed, forlorn and a wee bit bitter. Remember I had just made the bed- removed the sheets, shook them in the air, and put them back- AND then I saw the ring.
In the middle of our bed.
I still have goosebumps over it.