With this ring...

 

Our wedding bands in a nest Tegan & I made to symbolize the joining of Jim and my families.

When Jim was early in his cancer journey, I lost my diamond for an evening. I totally flipped out. It reminded me of when Mom had lost her wedding ring when Dad had been hospitalized and I had found it. I found mine as well and together Jim and I took my ring to a jeweler to be repaired. At that time I wrote this:

"These dreams are secured with two golden bands, but the initial promise is made with a diamond."

—The Diamond

Then I could see the loss, finding, and repair as hope at the start of his treatment. We would get through this together. 

I belong to a few widow and widower groups on social media. Being able to talk and listen to folks having experienced the loss of their spouse, even though each one of our paths is as different as star dust, is really therapeutic. There are a few themes that run throughout: expressing the grief; how to deal with other family and friend relationships that break; whether to remain or not in one's home; financial problems that occur; whether or not to date; whether or not to get a memorial tattoo; do you keep the ashes, split them up, get buried together or not; and most frequently how to cope with the deeply painful things non-widows say like "he's with God now", or "you'll be stronger for it", or "at least he's not in pain now", or "shouldn't you be over him by now?". Universally a question is "what about the wedding bands—wear or remove?". I was in the camp of wear. My Grandma DeMarle, widowed young and with 5 children to raise wore her's until she died. Other widows have a removal ceremony or have another piece of jewelry made from them. I thought perhaps someday I'd gift mine to Tegan. One of the reasons some remove their rings is to start dating. Some don't and of those that remarry, they move the first set to the right hand.

Exchanging our bands

Throughout our marriage, I would kiss Jim's band.

When Jim was in the last month of his life, he told me that he wanted me to date when I was ready. He also said that his own death did not upset him as much as leaving me to grief did—having grieved himself, he knew I would have to. I was more concerned then about what he was going through and had been through. I assured him that my friends and family would see me through. I had no idea then how much it would painfully upend my world.

As I sit here I am typing with basically one hand plus one finger. Pecking along slowly. Here's the thing, just before going to bed last night my ring finger got caught in one of the dog's collars. It twisted completely to the left and I popped it back in place, iced it, wrapped it, and took an aspirin. Today, as we were getting this beautiful snow that I am looking forward to skiing in, my hand looked even worse so I knew I had to go the doctor. Luckily I got in this afternoon.

Arrival at the doctor's

However, upon getting X-rays, it was clear that I had a split fracture like an upside down Y centered underneath my rings. My finger so swollen the doctor was afraid that I would end up with nerve damage. So we made the decision to cut off my wedding bands. As gold dust was falling across my purple bruise, I cried—through the whole process. I explained to the young doctor that it wasn't because the procedure hurt. My finger was only slightly painful but my heart was truly breaking. The doctor was truly gentle, understanding, and kind.

I'm not sure what to think about all of this. It sure is going to make it difficult to clear away the snow outside, ditto swimming, washing dishes, cooking, typing, walking the dogs, yet luckily the device I have will enable me to potentially ski. Definitely PT is in store and perhaps even resetting my finger when the swelling goes down.

I also know that my heart itself broke again—bringing back each moment of Jim's dying. I cried all the way home. I was flooded by these beautiful memories of my handsome Jim. The first year of grief is amazingly mind numbing and I continually had the physical sensation of my heart being carved out of my chest. That has mainly subsided—softened as Verandah Porche wrote to me that it would. However this first half of the second year there is an acute new pain. It keeps telling me that Jim will never return. That I am no longer a wife. That I am now on a new road—one we didn't choose—alone. My rings being cut off, my finger being fractured beneath those rings somehow seem all part of that mystical road through the forest. I am forced to turn down another path on the Y.

Postscript 2/4/22

Good thing we removed the rings. My hand continues to swell as predicted. Healing, it seems, takes time, tenderness, and patience. And Tegan's is coming by to dig me out and deliver breakfast.

Day 3 - good thing I went to the doctor

Day 3 - and that the rings were removed