I am not sure who needs to hear this but your wedding rings belong on your finger. They don’t belong beside the sink, beside the bed, in your jewelry box, or in the cupboard beside your toothbrush.
Why am I sharing this PSA? Well, because 20-plus years ago I lost my wedding rings. One day they were in a vaguely familiar place because I had taken them off as per usual, and the next they had disappeared forever.
I recall the moment of panic. The moment where I thought to myself, “Where did I put my wedding rings? When did I last wear them?” That day, that week, that month I tore the house apart, looking in every possible place where I might have placed my rings. Alas, I could find no rings.
I postponed informing hubby because I thought that they would just appear while cleaning or organizing. Maybe they fell off that tiny nail that I tended to hook them on while I was in the kitchen and they were on the floor or underneath the edge of the linoleum? Maybe they were in one of my wallets because I tended to remove them when my fingers puffed up and, perhaps, I had just tucked them in the wallet for safekeeping?
Maybe they were in the lining of a purse? Maybe they were in my jewelry box and I simply did not remember placing them in the jewelry box and maybe I have early onset dementia and MAYBE I LOST MY WEDDING RINGS FOREVER!
I had not only lost my wedding ring, but my engagement ring and first anniversary ring as the set was welded together – a triple whammy to the heart.
Many years passed and I continued to mourn the loss of my rings. I am sad that I will have nothing to provide to my daughter as a memory. I am sad that I have lost something that my husband had so carefully chosen for me so many years ago. I am sad.
Sensing my grief, my husband purchased me a gold band to wear in lieu of my lovely rings, but once again I took it off and set it ‘somewhere’ (my jewelry box this time).
Fast forward to this weekend when I decide to go all in and clean my home office. As I tore apart the closet, I glanced at an old fire safe that we had purchased 20+ years ago for putting documents into for safekeeping, things like birth certificates and passports, land title documents, etc.
I pulled the wee safe out and began pulling the paperwork out to organize the contents. Once I was satisfied that it was empty, I tipped it onto its side and shook it to ensure that all the dust, social insurance cards and passports were out.
I instantly heard a thunk. On the carpeted floor lay a purple velvet ring box.
My hands shook. My heart caught in my throat. I stooped down, picked up the ring box and pried it open with my thumb.
There was my ring! My beautiful wedding set was nestled in the ring box beside a family ring that I had been given as an inheritance item when my grandmother passed in the early 1990s.
Coincidentally about the same time as when I lost my wedding set. I had checked that safe a million times! I had opened it and felt around inside for a box so many times I had lost count.
I tipped open the safe and laid it on its back and examined the interior. The felt that lined the bottom tray in the safe was loose in the corner and I pulled it back to see the residue from the purple velvet on the ring box. It must have got stuck between the felt and the metal and was hidden from sight.
I cried. I screamed and scared my sister who was in the other room helping me organize. I called my husband and terrified him when I yelled into the phone, “You will never guess what just happened!”
I called my mother, my daughter, my son, my sister, my sister in law and then, of course, posted it on Facebook.
My rings were never lost. I had them all along.
In retrospect, did I really deserve those rings? Was it the universe telling me, “This is why you cannot have nice things Judy. You don’t look after them!”
Do they fit? No, that ship sailed 20 (oh who are we kidding, 40) pounds ago. Will I wear them now or will I keep them in the box for safekeeping? I think I will get them sized and try wearing them again – you never know, maybe this time I will be more careful. If I do store them away again, this time I will tell someone where I put them, just in case.
Judy Kucharuk is a community columnist living in Dawson Creek.