For the last nineteen years, the most precious of my possessions has been the engagement ring that my husband had designed especially for me. It has a lovely diamond and is flanked on each side by a ruby, my birthstone. While I don't think of myself as a materialistic person, it is the one item I've always felt I couldn't live without, because of its symbolic value. I've treasured this ring and it has been on my left hand every single day until this past January 11th, the day my husband of eighteen years left me without warning.
I'd never considered that this kind of life-shattering event was even a possibility. The load of things to deal with is overwhelming; there are innumerable practical details involved in untangling two lives. Working on these details has prevented me from having the space to handle the emotional issues. Both the practical and emotional issues are on my mind constantly, although they sometimes step aside so that I can function at work and at home.
One of the hardest things to handle, though, is the empty left hand. That beautiful ring, that symbol of love made especially for me is now meaningless and tucked out of sight in the bottom of my jewelry box. It most certainly is not out of mind, however. Its absence reminds me continuously that I'm living in a new reality.
Despite everything, I recognize that I'm a lucky person. I have a wide and loving support network, I'm healthy, I have an excellent job that I enjoy and that allows me to care for myself financially. I have a beautiful home in which I'll continue to live and to make my own comfortable space. These things are blessings, and I know that. But none of them can reach the core of the pain that's evident every time I look at my empty hand.
