I remember the first time I saw my ring. I had somehow suckered my boyfriend into accompanying me to visit the Shane Co and just look at engagement rings since we'd been talking about being in love and getting married one day. We walked in, holding hands with nothing but love between us. We browsed the endless amount of rings and then I saw it, the one. Months later we were sitting on the beach, me wondering if this would be the time and he popped the question. But he seemed to be cracking too many jokes and then I almost accidentally cracked his nose as he leaned towards me to kiss me and I turned to look at people walking by. I thought for sure, I'd been hoping for nothing and on that June day, we walked across the beach hand in hand just enjoying my favorite place and each other's company. And then he sat me down on a rock outcropping and asked me to spend the rest of my life with him, and I said yes.
That ring became my prized possession and I was so proud of it. Amazed that the man I loved had sold his '67 firebird to get me the ring of my dreams. All my girlfriends ooh'ed and ahh'ed over it and I felt like the luckiest girl in the world. Every time we'd have a hard time, I'd look down at that ring and remember those moments on the beach, our wedding, our vows and my loyalty to this man.
And so last week I pulled out this ring, listed it on craigslist, my facebook and a few other forums . . . it was time for the most prized possession of my youth to be gone. I needed the money for the girls upcoming birthdays, legal fees and other stuff and I knew that someone could get a steal if they bought it from me. And I could no longer stand to see that ring, sitting at the bottom of my drawer every time I pulled it open to get my lotion and toothbrush every morning and every night. Seeing it sit there, scratched, dull, uncleaned and needing a diamond fixed in it was too painful of a reminder. It was a reminder what had happened to me. I had once been just like that ring . . . shiny, brilliant, sparkly, catching most men's eyes where ever I went. I never understood why but still noticed the attention my body and smile could garner. And now, 10.5 years later I was a scratched, dull, worn person, put to the bottom of the proverbial drawer . . . just like my ring. I'd lost the luster of my youth and the man who had lived those years with me, had cheated on me and deemed me not good enough.
So I picked up that ring and I took it to Shane Co and had them service, clean and fix it. I was relieved it was out of my house and took an extra week to even go and pick it up. Found every excuse as to leave it there instead of picking it up, until they called me and politely reminded me that my ring was ready for pick up. I arrived, they asked for my signature and when I barely glanced at it the kind lady asked if I'd like to inspect it to make sure it was good. I had a hard time raising my eyes and I looked at it and quietly blurted out "Wow, i forgot how beautiful it was. Sorry, I'm going through a divorce and only cleaning it to possibly sell it". The poor lady didn't know what to say and I ducked my head into my sleeping son's head that was on my shoulder. I glanced over and noticed there were two guys waiting behind me and the looks of pity on their faces almost sent me into hysterics. My middle dd had been across the room and was fascinated by watching the jewelers behind the glass and I called to her and hurried out of there, willing myself not to lose it in front of her, I didn't need to teach her that the ring meant as much as it had to me. And as we passed by all the cases of rings, she innocently asked to see it and so i stopped and opened it, and she exclaimed, "Mommy, it's the prettiest ring in the whole store". Yes baby, mommy had thought so too once upon a time.
I kept that ring in a box until this afternoon when a friend came over to see if she was interested in it. I avoided looking at it and put it back in it's box when she was done. After she left, I couldn't resist any longer and i opened up the box, slipped it onto my wedding finger that it hadn't fit on for over a year due to the weight gain from my son's pregnancy and just sat there, once again the perfect fit for my finger. I won't lie, i pretty much burst into tears. But not because I was sad to never wear it again, but I was devastated that this ring that I had had so much pride over was the foretelling of my future and I never even had noticed it.
You see, the ring has 6 side diamonds on it. Three on each side of the center stone. And as I looked at it, I thought rapidly, "Carrie, Gabby, Shelly, Sandy, Ashley, Sarah". Yep, there it was. A diamond for each of his affairs, three I'd known about and been convinced by him for years were only emotional affairs. . . the other's I'd not found out about till the last 5 months. For over nine years, I'd been carrying around a diamond for each of my husband's future and past affairs. And there was that center stone, sitting up above them all. I have yet to figure out if it's because that's me, completely clueless and stuck in the midst of it. Or if it's me, above the rest of those women, because he never deserved me. Regardless, I'm in no hurry anymore to sell the ring. It's a reminder, I may even wear it again some day. Not because it represents my marriage or love to STBX, but because now I see that it's a reminder to choose wiser, fall in love carefully and fall slower, and to teach my girls that material things don't mean a crap and will NEVER guarantee the right outcome will happen. A man can propose with a 3 carat Diamond ring and still cheat, die or leave you. A man can give you a $50 ring and he can be the most faithful, loving and devoted husband. You just never know, and the importance that I put on this ring was a lesson in and of itself, the ring never mattered. The man behind the ring and who he showed himself to be is what mattered all along. And I would let fancy rings or huge gifts make up for his shortcomings over the last 10.5 years of our life together. He'd screw up in the biggest ways possible, and then he'd come home with a gift. A purse, a ring, platinum diamond earrings, huge gift certificates. I didn't realize it at the time as it would always be under the guise of my birthday or Christmas. But I now can see the correlation to the big gift years being the same years he was busted.
And in reality, you know what the best gifts he ever gave me were? My three beautiful, amazing and innocent babies. Those are the only gifts I care about anymore. My children, their love, their happiness and emotional well being, those are the gifts that are number one in my heart and I've learned a very valuable and wise lesson . . . material things really are so very unimportant and never again will I covet or be proud of something I or someone else has, because really they are just things that don't guarantee a damn thing in this life.
Lesson learned God, point taken.
No comments:
Post a Comment