This year Valentine's Day has double significance for me. There was a teachers' meeting before classes started on Valentine's Day my first year of teaching. I still have a clear visual image of the room where the meeting was held. I was sitting next to one of the third grade teachers and she noticed the brand new, shining engagement ring on my finger and made me hold up my hand to show all the other teachers. Rick had given me the ring the night before as my Valentine's Day present. I was by far the youngest teacher in the school as I had celebrated my 21st birthday after classes started in September. Most of the other teachers were old enough to be my grandmother. They all made quite a "to-do" over my new status. That was 48 years ago today.
This takes me back to the night before. Rick had told me to meet him as soon as we got home from work that night. He then said that he had a surprise for me. It was a cold, dark, rainy February night in Dallas. He drove to a jewelry store, parked and told me to get out. Of course, we had talked about getting married and I told him that I just wanted a wide gold band and no engagement ring. He didn't like that idea and when we arrived at the jewelry store, he told me he was buying me an engagement ring as a Valentine's present. I selected this simple, modest solitaire that is still on my finger. He said he wanted to give it to me on the 13th because he couldn't afford to get me anything else and he didn't want me to think that he had forgotten about Valentine's Day.
We went to our favorite restaurant, ordered drinks and he slipped the ring on my finger. He never actually proposed to me--not even that night. He just put the ring on my finger. The closest he ever came to a proposal was when he said, "A man would be a fool not to marry a woman who can make spaghetti sauce as good as you can."
As I look at the ring, I am frequently reminded of my favorite Joan Rivers' quote. She was talking about engagement rings and said that you can always tell if a woman is a man's first wife by the size of the diamond. The first wife always has a small diamond. Each subsequent wife's diamond gets bigger than the last wife's. Well, when you look at the size of my diamond, you will know that I was Rick's first and only wife.
Apparently, I am being politically incorrect by still wearing my engagement and wedding rings. Several months ago, I was surfing web sites that dealt with losing a spouse and coping with grief. One had a questionnaire/list of things to consider. One of the items asked if you were still wearing your rings. Then it asked if you were, why were you. It said that a widowed person is no longer married and should take off the rings. Well, I'm sorry. Intellectually, I realize that I am not a married person anymore. Emotionally, I don't feel like a single person. I simply am not ready to take off the rings. Maybe someday I will. I noticed recently that my sister-in-law has taken hers off. My brother has been dead for four years. Since I read that, I have been doing a check to see if widows are wearing their rings. It seems to be about 50/50.
The other significance of this date is that Rick died nine months ago today. Of course, he was in the hospital for five weeks before he died so it has been over ten months since he has been here at home. In a way it doesn't seem possible that it has been that long and in another way it seems like it has been forever.
I seem to be turning a corner in this grieving process. I really can't describe the feeling. About the best I can do is to say that the weight of grief is getting lighter. I realize that it is time for me not only to get on with my life, but to begin to build a new one and enjoy it!
This feeling was validated at church yesterday. Pastor Gail's sermon was entitled "Choose Life and Hold Fast." While she was delivering the message, those words were projected on a screen behind her. The focus of her message was to choose the Christian life. To me personally it meant more than just choosing to live a Christian life. I felt that those words projected on the screen over her head were directed specifically to me. God was saying, "Okay, Carolyn. Time to get out of your funk. 'Choose Life,' and you'd better 'Hold Fast' because it's going to be a great ride. Maybe a little bumpy at times, but a great ride nevertheless." So Gail, I'm sorry that my mind strayed a bit during your sermon, but I'm sure you had no idea what thoughts and emotions your words stirred in me.
Now to all of you, my friends. Happy Valentine's Day. It is a wonderful time to express all kinds of love--romantic, parental, platonic and friendship. I love you and I thank each you for the love you have given me over the last ten months. May we all "choose life and hold fast" in the coming year.
This takes me back to the night before. Rick had told me to meet him as soon as we got home from work that night. He then said that he had a surprise for me. It was a cold, dark, rainy February night in Dallas. He drove to a jewelry store, parked and told me to get out. Of course, we had talked about getting married and I told him that I just wanted a wide gold band and no engagement ring. He didn't like that idea and when we arrived at the jewelry store, he told me he was buying me an engagement ring as a Valentine's present. I selected this simple, modest solitaire that is still on my finger. He said he wanted to give it to me on the 13th because he couldn't afford to get me anything else and he didn't want me to think that he had forgotten about Valentine's Day.
We went to our favorite restaurant, ordered drinks and he slipped the ring on my finger. He never actually proposed to me--not even that night. He just put the ring on my finger. The closest he ever came to a proposal was when he said, "A man would be a fool not to marry a woman who can make spaghetti sauce as good as you can."
As I look at the ring, I am frequently reminded of my favorite Joan Rivers' quote. She was talking about engagement rings and said that you can always tell if a woman is a man's first wife by the size of the diamond. The first wife always has a small diamond. Each subsequent wife's diamond gets bigger than the last wife's. Well, when you look at the size of my diamond, you will know that I was Rick's first and only wife.
Apparently, I am being politically incorrect by still wearing my engagement and wedding rings. Several months ago, I was surfing web sites that dealt with losing a spouse and coping with grief. One had a questionnaire/list of things to consider. One of the items asked if you were still wearing your rings. Then it asked if you were, why were you. It said that a widowed person is no longer married and should take off the rings. Well, I'm sorry. Intellectually, I realize that I am not a married person anymore. Emotionally, I don't feel like a single person. I simply am not ready to take off the rings. Maybe someday I will. I noticed recently that my sister-in-law has taken hers off. My brother has been dead for four years. Since I read that, I have been doing a check to see if widows are wearing their rings. It seems to be about 50/50.
The other significance of this date is that Rick died nine months ago today. Of course, he was in the hospital for five weeks before he died so it has been over ten months since he has been here at home. In a way it doesn't seem possible that it has been that long and in another way it seems like it has been forever.
I seem to be turning a corner in this grieving process. I really can't describe the feeling. About the best I can do is to say that the weight of grief is getting lighter. I realize that it is time for me not only to get on with my life, but to begin to build a new one and enjoy it!
This feeling was validated at church yesterday. Pastor Gail's sermon was entitled "Choose Life and Hold Fast." While she was delivering the message, those words were projected on a screen behind her. The focus of her message was to choose the Christian life. To me personally it meant more than just choosing to live a Christian life. I felt that those words projected on the screen over her head were directed specifically to me. God was saying, "Okay, Carolyn. Time to get out of your funk. 'Choose Life,' and you'd better 'Hold Fast' because it's going to be a great ride. Maybe a little bumpy at times, but a great ride nevertheless." So Gail, I'm sorry that my mind strayed a bit during your sermon, but I'm sure you had no idea what thoughts and emotions your words stirred in me.
Now to all of you, my friends. Happy Valentine's Day. It is a wonderful time to express all kinds of love--romantic, parental, platonic and friendship. I love you and I thank each you for the love you have given me over the last ten months. May we all "choose life and hold fast" in the coming year.
Great post!!! (My diamond is small also.)
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