Ring


The first thing that comes to mind for the word ring is a wedding ring. For most people it’s the only ring that they wear. My Dad worked as a letter carrier so he didn’t wear one because he was afraid of losing it. Plus he just wasn’t comfortable wearing one. I used to tell Mom that it’s ok we know he’s taken. When my Mom died I got a call regarding her wedding ring. What a hassle that was as I had to go up to the head office and show ID and I didn’t have any on me. It was all I could do to hold it together as I was either going to cry or scream. There was a moment when I honestly wondered if it was worth it.
My grandparents were married 50 yrs. My grandfather had to replace her wedding band as it had thinned from wear. She still kept it in the original box in her dresser. My Dad’s eldest sister got a larger engagement ring after 25? years of marriage. At a point when he could afford to get her a bigger one. My Dad’s sister in law had one too. Even in my early 20s I didn’t get it. To me it’s the symbolism of the ring that you are given when their husbands asked them to marry them. Maybe it’s romanticizing it but I know my Mom and I felt the same way. The second ones were considerably “larger”.
I remember having breakfast with my brother the morning after their wedding. It felt weird seeing a ring on his finger. Despite the fact that I saw them exchange vows this somehow made it more real.
In a wedding ceremony the officiant (minister/priest) says until death do you part and for my family members they meant it. The ring is a symbol of love. A circle that has no beginning and ending.

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