Wearing Rings
From the “I have no idea what I am doing” department, here is something to consider. I have stopped wearing my wedding ring. I don’t know if it’s too soon to do that or if it’s too late. I just know that instead of it being on my finger it is now on my dresser. I don’t know if people have noticed that I don’t have it on, but I notice. It feels a little weird, certainly different. For a while, I wore it sometimes and didn’t wear it other times. It didn’t seem like there was any rhythm to it until I realized that I usually didn’t wear it when I was out of the house on my own. Like if I was shopping or at the gym. On those occasions I was ring-less. But if I was with family, I made sure to have it on.That practice continued right up to Christmas a week ago. I had not been wearing my ring for a week or so before Christmas but it seemed that I should have it on for that. It seemed almost disrespectful by not having it on. So I had in on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and over the weekend, I think. Maybe not that long. Truth is, I don’t remember when I last took it off. I only know that I don’t have it on now. And I don’t know when I’m going to have it on again.
A month after Coleen’s passing, my son Patrick commented on the fact that I was still wearing my wedding ring. I explained by saying that I hadn’t gotten divorced, so I thought I should still be wearing it. Strangely for him, he didn’t argue my explanation. And I felt I was doing the right thing. Then later on, I began to take it off sometimes. The truth is I guess I didn’t want to be wearing a wedding ring if there was a chance I might be noticed by a woman somewhere. I would undoubtedly be reducing my chances of potential romance by portraying myself as a married man. But the other truth is I was no longer married. If I was filling out a form and had to declare my marital status, I would check the box that said “Widowed” or “Single.” So why the hesitation with the ring?
I had to talk myself into that new marital status and even now, have to remind myself of it. It’s another part of letting go and becoming new. It’s another part of saying goodbye to someone so hard to be without and saying hello to new opportunity and new people. As I think about some of these seemingly unrelated episodes of my life, these little things like wearing a ring, consistent themes and lessons frequently repeat themselves. Months ago during my first Reiki therapy, Rebecca was teaching me about breath control. She instructed me to breath in deeply through my nose and to exhale completely. She told me to exhale so far that I felt like I was “crunching out your breath to make more room for the new breath, the next inhale.” Without me thinking about that concept ahead of time, that metaphor is exactly what I am writing about. I have to crunch out the old to make way for the new. It’s not disrespectful, more like discovery and survival.
In some ways I feel like I have turned a small corner in the past few days. I have survived most of the holiday season without catastrophe and haven’t been crying as much. I am thinking more about future games and a little less about sadness. I am becoming interested once again in one-on-one, boy-to-girl conversation and interactions. I have been hearing whispers of encouragement from different sources to become better than before. To use my loss as impetus for growth and discovery and improvement.
Post Script:
Before I finished this, I took down the few Christmas decorations I had this year. Just as I thought I was becoming some kind of tough guy who was getting over the emotion of losing Coleen, I ran into the little white bell Christmas tree ornament from 1981. The one that says “Our First Christmas Together 1981″ on it. Talk about a wave of emotion, it was more like a storm as I was simply overcome with the sadness that ornament brings me. Somehow, I got it off the tree and packed away. I wonder how I will react when I see it again next year. If it will cripple me like it did when I hung it and when I took it down this year. Or if it will ring by itself like I was tickling it? Where will I be in 12 months? I can’t think that far ahead. I’m just working on today and then the day after that.
This whole healing thing is like waves reaching my shore. They come in various sizes and strengths of emotional intensity and are often unexpected. After they reach the shore, there is a calmness as the water returns to where it started, only to reform later in other waves, other emotions, that sneak up on me. As much as I think I make progress in healing, I remain very fragile. I am a living, breathing contradiction. I have stopped wearing my wedding ring but I continue to wear Coleen’s rings around my neck. I think I’m stronger, then become weak. I think I know what I’m doing and then I wonder. And then I write it down and learn.