Ring Stories

I wear three rings and there is a story for each. They bring me comfort now – they feel like my link to the past. Reminders that are with me – on me – every minute, no matter where I go. I can look at them and remember the stories, and what they say about who he was, what our history was. I take better care of them than I ever have – I take them off when I wash my hands, I clean them regularly, I inspect them to make sure the prongs are strong.

On my right hand I wear a ring he gave me about 15 years ago. It all started when I went to the mall to run an errand one day on my lunch break. I took care of the errand, and on my way out, stopped in a jewelry store on the edge of the food court. I stopped to “visit” a particular ring. Gold, with an emerald cut sapphire, and three diamonds on either side in a stair step formation. I loved the ring, and had been admiring it for months. I never would have bought it for myself, or told him about it. We could have afforded it, but it would have been self-indulgent. There were too many other things more important to our family.

As I was standing there, I glanced up, and across the food court, there was Kirk. He was in the entrance to Penneys, and saw me at the same time I saw him. Such a small thing, seeing each other by surprise in a place neither of us would normally be at that time. We were excited and happy to see each other – a treat in the middle of an ordinary day. It was especially surprising because he HATED the mall, and virtually never went there. He thought JC Penney was the height of fashion, or good enough – I’m not sure which. Its primary appeal to him was that it carried everything he needed and could be accessed by an exterior door to the parking lot so he never had to enter the actual mall. Even so, I generally shopped for him. That day, though, he decided he needed something and went there the same time I did.

We walked to meet each other, and he asked what I was doing. I said I was visiting a ring. He asked what I was talking about and I explained, and took him over to see it. Then we had lunch and both went back to work.

About three days later, I came home from work to find the table set for dinner and a box on my plate. Sure enough, the ring was inside. No reason – not my birthday, Christmas, anniversary, Mother’s Day. Like the flowers he often bought, he gave it to me just to make me happy. I was uncomfortable with it – I knew it was expensive, and kept thinking of all the other things we could do with the money. He insisted I keep it. In many ways it is my favorite ring because the only story behind it is his desire to surprise me and make me happy.

On my left hand is a diamond ring. I like it, but it is my least favorite ring and has no emotional value. It is a replacement ring, purchased with insurance money after a ring I loved was either lost or stolen. That first ring was an anniversary ring that Kirk gave me maybe 12 years ago. It was an anniversary gift, and had 5 graduated marquis diamonds with two baguettes on each side. I was shocked when he gave it to me – I had no idea he was planning it. I found out later that when he shopped for it, he knew he wanted an anniversary ring, but had no idea what style. He picked it by having the saleswoman put on one style at a time, then watching her from a distance while she attended to other customers. She told me he had her wear each style for at least ten minutes. He just waited in the store for hours, watching how each ring looked on her hand as she worked. Then he picked the one he thought had the most sparkle and color as she moved. I love the thought of him standing there for so long, focusing on picking just the right one. So much more commitment than most people would put into the choosing. I loved that ring, but six years ago, I was in an airport, about to go through security, when I realized a prong in the ring was loose and I was about to lose a diamond. I took the ring off and zipped it into an inside pocket of my purse. I didn’t look in the pocket again until I got back home – three airports and two security searches later. The ring was gone, never to be found – either lost or stolen during one of the searches I assume. I didn’t file the insurance claim for months, because I kept searching for it, refusing to accept it was gone. Finally I had to acknowledge it was, and the insurance company accepted the claim, but I still couldn’t bring myself to buy a replacement. I looked and looked for a full year, never finding another ring like he had chosen, or one I loved nearly as much. After twelve months the insurance company told me if I didn’t pick something else they would have to close the claim, so I finally bought the ring I wear now. It is pretty and I like it, but I feel no attachment to it, other than when I look at it, I think of the one it replaced, and of him standing there watching a strange woman’s hands.

And finally, most importantly, the wedding band I now wear on my left ring finger. It was his. This is the longest story of all.

We eloped (a story I know I have not yet told you, but I will someday). We were broke, and had no rings. Instead, we put a matching set on layaway at Nusbaum’s I think - one of those old catalog showrooms (those of you under 40 will not know what this is because they don’t exist anymore). But before they were paid off, money became so tight we couldn’t afford the payments anymore, so we cancelled the layaway, got a refund, and promised each other we would get them someday. I am so glad now we never finished the payments, because in retrospect, the rings we picked were hideous and I would not be happy with them today.

We were “ringless” for several years after this. As a matter of fact, I remember being told by my sister Lauren that one day she was going to meet a friend for breakfast, and when they discussed where to meet, the friend wanted to go to a particular Perkins. She said there was a hot single guy who worked there that she had been eyeing for quite a while and she wanted Lauren to see him. They met and got seated, and pretty soon the friend pointed and said “There he is!” Lauren looked over toward the kitchen, and there was Kirk. She asked her friend what made her think that guy was single, and the friend said she had checked it out and he didn’t wear a ring. You can imagine the friend’s surprise when Kirk walked over to Lauren and they clearly knew each other – Lauren took great delight in informing her that the hot guy was her brother in law.

After being married about three years, Kirk bought me a wedding ring and small diamond engagement ring. They were very pretty, and fit together with a small hook shaped prong so they stayed connected. They came from JC Penney (tee hee – maybe that’s where his passion for Penneys was born), and many of you heard the story from my sister Susan at his funeral. He bought them using her employee discount, on sale, and on layaway. As you can guess, we were still pretty broke. Susan did a great job of helping him pick them out, and I loved them. I wore them both until he gave me the anniversary ring. Art that point, I stopped wearing the engagement ring, and wore the wedding band with the anniversary ring on my left ring finger, and the sapphire on my right. I still have that little engagement ring, but don’t wear it because the little hook in it doesn’t allow for wearing it alone. Someday I will have it reworked so I can wear it again.

Kirk remained ringless for many more years. It never bothered me, and he wasn’t really a jewelry person, so we didn’t do anything about it. But about ten years ago or so, he started having a real desire to have one. In his typical fashion, he didn’t want to spend the money on himself. Finally I convinced him to go shopping for one, and we picked one out. White and yellow gold. And as it turns out, spinnable. He loved to take it off, turn it on its side, and spin it on a table. It would spin forever once he got good at it. He loved that ring and always wore it once he had it.

His ring is mine now. When I had to tell the funeral director if he should be buried with it on, I didn’t know what to do. Burying it with him didn’t feel right, and I really wanted it as a memory of him. But burying him without it didn’t seem right either. Finally I figured it out. We had never exchanged rings in life – each of us came by our rings over time, separately. So instead, we exchanged them after he was gone. I kept his, and I gave him mine. It was, of course, too small to fit on his finger. So they tucked it into his hand, and he was buried holding it. I had his cut down to fit me, and now I wear it every day. It is the most important ring of all. Someday Erika and Matt will decide whether I should be buried with it, or if they want it, and whatever they decide will be okay with me. But for now, it is my link to him – every day I think about the fact that his finger was in it for years before mine, and it brings me comfort.

I am thinking about Kirk a lot tonight. I think about him every night of course, but tonight the thoughts are different. I feel a responsibility to him, to his loss, in a way I have not before. Tomorrow is grand jury day, and I am nervous. It’s the first big step in this process, the first time someone could tell me that the system does not agree that a crime occurred. What if they think it was just an “accident?” Tragic, but not criminal? I am realizing that although I have not assumed the other driver would eventually be convicted, I have been assuming he would be indicted. If he isn’t, it all stops. Done. No consequences, no responsibility taken. If that happens, I will be upset and angry, and I will question myself. Did I not push the DA enough? Not question the police enough? Should I have insisted on knowing what witnesses they were presenting, what evidence they planned to present? Should I have been louder, more insistent, so someone would have prepared more? I hope I will not have to face these questions – I’ve faced enough already.