My Ring Is Back

 My ring is back on my finger, thank God.
Even after a month, I couldn't get used to not having it.  I would find myself sometimes shaking my hand just to try to relieve the weird sensation.  I would wake up with a bit of panic in the night because something was wrong.

After wearing it for 54 years, perhaps it has become a horcrux.  All I know is that I've been feeling really stressed for the last month, and as soon as I slipped it back on again, I could relax.  Yes, it's different.

Before:

Now: 

Do I miss that wee diamond (marquis cut!)? Yes, of course.  Like I miss the 19-year old who didn't care what size the diamond was (it ended up being 1/5 carat) as long as it was a marquis cut, who tried to climb Bob to grab it as he held it out of her reach.  But I'm OK with it.  I was not OK with not feeling that ring on my finger.  And I didn't even want to think about getting a "replacement" diamond (honestly, I'm not that much of a diamond person).

I feel like I can breathe again.  Especially since it now has a companion on the other hand:

As long as I was getting one ring remade, why not two?  That's Bob's wedding ring.  I've kept it (of course!) but in a box to look at once in awhile, and sigh.  I know a woman who wears her husband's ring on her thumb - Bob's ring was far too big even for that.  There's the "ring on a chain" standard - but chains can come undone or break, and it would have to be something that I took on and off, because I spend so much time outside.  Now I can just wear it, all the time.

I love it.  I wish I had thought of this years ago.  A bit of him with me.  It feels so good.  Empowering.  Can a hand feel empowered?  Well, of course!  "Rings of power" is a thing.  Rings have from pre-history had meanings of power, symbolism, cultural meaning.  I am now me on my left hand, but Bob on my right, and I feel just a tiny bit more whole than I have for years.  A little stronger.

Like he's still with me.