Well, it's official. I've lost my wedding ring. (Ladies, feel free to actually gasp or yell out loud... Lord knows I certainly did.) My heart is broken and I actually feel sick over the whole thing. If anyone knows how I feel, however, it's my husband. Afterall, he lost his wedding ring (ring #1) last spring out in our yard (one of us was playing with their ring when they lost it -one guess who it was....this person CLAIMS that rings "just feel weird"- while the other one of us was dutifuly trying to break up a dog fight between the beloved Mr. Milo and the neighborhood bully, Mac the Monster, in the cold... in the muddiest part of our yard... suffering from a minor dog bite on the hand- I mean, obviously I wouldn't feel my ring fly off when I'm busy getting BITTEN!!!)
I guess the biggest difference between when my husband and I lost our rings is that I love my ring. No, I mean it....I seriously LOVE my ring. It's the most beautiful ring in the world- white gold, vintage style band with tiny diamonds that resemble butterflies, and a brilliant near-karat stone in the center. I love wearing it, I love getting compliments on it, and I love what it symbolizes to me (that I married a man with great taste in rings!). On and off since Wednesday (now dubbed my Terrible, No Good ,Very Bad Day), three metal detectors and a torn apart house later, I've dissolved into tears thinking about the fact that I may never get to wear the tiny circle that my husband put on my ring finger 16 months ago. I thought he would have been more upset with me for losing this precious possession (especially after I kinda tore him a new one for losing his).
But you know what he did? My guy pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead, telling me that it's just a piece of metal- the ring is lost, not the love behind it. (tears) And, whereas this did make me feel touched and warmed to the very center of my heart, all I could do was half-blubber / half-choke that "I miss my bu-u-tter-fl-flies". So, in an attempt to cheer me up a bit, my husband took me out to sing karaoke (if you don't know him, you don't realize that this is NOT his favorite activity in the world, proving his wonderful self-lessness in the matter), where he even came up onto the stage with me (I'm such a nervous baby!), held my hand during a rather sad version of Etta James' "At Last", and gave me a big smooch at the end of my performance (amidst hoots and hollers from the punk singer with the Brooklyn accent and his pals). And yes, I've cried about my ring again today....but I'm trying to realize that my karaoke-attending, cheer-me-up husband was right. The ring is gone, but the love is still there.
I guess the biggest difference between when my husband and I lost our rings is that I love my ring. No, I mean it....I seriously LOVE my ring. It's the most beautiful ring in the world- white gold, vintage style band with tiny diamonds that resemble butterflies, and a brilliant near-karat stone in the center. I love wearing it, I love getting compliments on it, and I love what it symbolizes to me (that I married a man with great taste in rings!). On and off since Wednesday (now dubbed my Terrible, No Good ,Very Bad Day), three metal detectors and a torn apart house later, I've dissolved into tears thinking about the fact that I may never get to wear the tiny circle that my husband put on my ring finger 16 months ago. I thought he would have been more upset with me for losing this precious possession (especially after I kinda tore him a new one for losing his).
But you know what he did? My guy pulled me into his arms and kissed my forehead, telling me that it's just a piece of metal- the ring is lost, not the love behind it. (tears) And, whereas this did make me feel touched and warmed to the very center of my heart, all I could do was half-blubber / half-choke that "I miss my bu-u-tter-fl-flies". So, in an attempt to cheer me up a bit, my husband took me out to sing karaoke (if you don't know him, you don't realize that this is NOT his favorite activity in the world, proving his wonderful self-lessness in the matter), where he even came up onto the stage with me (I'm such a nervous baby!), held my hand during a rather sad version of Etta James' "At Last", and gave me a big smooch at the end of my performance (amidst hoots and hollers from the punk singer with the Brooklyn accent and his pals). And yes, I've cried about my ring again today....but I'm trying to realize that my karaoke-attending, cheer-me-up husband was right. The ring is gone, but the love is still there.
You guys are amazing!
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