Why My Left Hand is Naked | The Great Ring Loss

Let me just say... I am not known as the most responsible person when it comes to keeping track of things. I'm fairly forgetful, and often absent-minded.

I can admit this. I'm a big girl. 

I can remember many, many, many times in my adolescent years freaking out about lost items - and my mother and father every time answered 

"You were the last to have it. We don't know where you put it"

It made me so mad. Because they were right... they didn't know, because I misplaced it. 

Dang it.

But I didn't want to admit that. I just wanted someone to find it for me and NOW.

But... 8 out of 10 times those things that I..."Have completely lost forever" turn up, if not while looking for them, then shortly after looking for them. And I have this feeling when I realize something is missing... even though part of my heart is in a small panic wondering what could have happened to it, I know I'll find it because... I usually do and it's probably in location A, B or C and if not it's definitely in D. 

Well... this week changed that track record. I lost 2 items that are very, very precious and I knew the moment I realized they were not where I thought they were that they were GONE. Not maybe gone, not possibly put somewhere else... but gone. 

I lost my wedding and engagement rings. 

gasp.

Here's the back story: 
I never take them off. Like ever. I know you are supposed to sometimes, but I really never do. The only times I am without them are 1) My fingers are swelling due to heat, pregnancy, whatever and they are restricting blood flow. 2) They are at the jeweler getting cleaned / repaired / etc. So this time it was reason #2. Greg and I had returned from working late on our little home renovation project we got going on and I noticed that the main stone in my engagement ring was audible... meaning it was loose... meaning it could fall out and that would be devastating! So I mentioned it to Greg and he told me to take them off right away, put them in a ziplock and take them to the jewelers first thing. 

Absolutely! No sweat. I got this! 

So I walked inside the house. Removed them. Placed them in a sealed ziplock bag for safe keeping and slipped them cozily inside my little purse which I then put back into the diaper bag and went to bed! 

They were safe. In a bag, within a bag, within another bag. We were good and tomorrow I would take them to the jeweler. DONE

Tomorrow came. It was a rough morning with Lucy who has really started to get good at this wining / temper-tantrum / fussy behavior we all love so much. I needed to run to Home Depot for house items and then I needed to go to the jeweler. In my mind I knew I did not have my rings on and that I needed to take them to get fixed. I even remember walking into HD thinking... here I am pregnant with a toddler and this finger doesn't have a ring on it! I chuckled... but in the hustle of life my mind did not allow me to continue to process that thought to where I needed to double check to be sure that they were indeed in my bag and be sure they were secure and never went anywhere or moved or anything. 

Regret. Totally regret not double / triple / quadruple checking on them. 

So Home Depot was... awful, as it usually is with a fussy toddler who wants a snack that I didn't pack, while I look for tools / items that I know nothing about but have to try and figure out from my husband's description of them. 

We finally finished. Paid. Wheeled our cart out. And at that point... I was not making it to Hershey to go to the jeweler's because it was Lunch and Nap time. STAT. 

The next 4 hours consisted of normal life. After naps we packed up and headed to Hershey to drop those rings off... which I still never double checked on! 

WHY? I do not know! 

It was 1/2 way to Hershey that I remembered I hadn't seen them in awhile and quickly looked in my purse as I drove. 

This part of the story is called: Panic and Ugly Cry. 

I pulled over the first chance I got, and through mad amounts of tears and hyperventilating I ripped apart every bag in my car from my purse, to my diaper bag, to the home depot shopping bag to the bag of beach towels and clothes I had taken to Hershey Park the day before. (Maybe it fell in there... some how. maybe) I ripped up the floor carpets, looked in and under seats, opened the trunk. Checked my purse and diaper bag a third and fourth and fifth time. (Maybe I missed it)

All while a very confused, and probably scared toddler looked on in horror! 

With no success... and still in a panic, I jumped back into the car and headed back home.

I mentioned earlier how when I lose something or can't find it I'm normally calm because I know it'll show up. This was not like that. In my heart of hearts I somehow knew they were gone. Because I knew where I had put them. I knew I had cleaned up at the house and hadn't seen them earlier and I knew I had been to Home Depot and was basically 1/2 conscious of anything that happened there due to the circumstances of that crazy visit. 

I knew the likelihood of finding them was slim... to none. 

This part of the story is called: Driving Like a Maniac While still Ugly-Crying. 

Made it to the house, no luck. Drove to Home Depot and scoured every inch of the store and parking lot. 

Nothing. 

Greg came and helped, Mark and Beth came and helped. The sweet manager of Home Depot came and helped. 

Nothing. 

They were gone. And I didn't have the slightest clue where they went. 
This was reality. 
It sucked. 

I've never lost something so precious. 
One time, when I was 11, I lost my sister's change purse at Dorney Park. And when I went to Italy in college my camera was stolen after taking a week's worth of photos. Those are the only times I can remember feeling helpless and stuck. 

And losing your engagement and wedding rings is WAY worse. And there's no fixing it. 

Ultimately... they could still be anywhere; found by someone and thus stolen and gone forever, hiding in some unknown location that somehow we have not scoured or they blew away in the parking lot and are stuck in a random bush or field along the highway in Harrisburg. 

I don't know. 
God knows. 
But he's not telling me... 

I love those rings. I love the meaning of those rings. I love what they have stood for and the promise that they represent. I love the memories of the days on which I received each one of them from the man I love more than anyone in the world.

They are precious to me. But... they are still things. Ultimately, when all is said and done, they don't matter. 

(Greg was good to remind me of this while I snotted all over his shoulder during yet another ugly-cry episode... it doesn't help that I'm pregnant. It was bad)

So... I may never stop looking for them. Even today I just walked around the yard thinking.... maybe they're out here. I looked in the laundry... ya know maybe I put them in the washer? Looked in Lucy's toys because... maybe she hid them? I'll probably do that for a long, long time. But, alas, the reality of their fate will have to sink in sooner or later. This is life. Bad things happen. We forget / lose / break / destroy things that are precious. But ultimately, in this moment, the things that truly matter are still safe and secure: my marriage, my husband, my daughter and my son. I am thanking God for them, even while mourning what I have lost. 

Thanks to all who have prayed / encouraged / called / texted and helped. It means a lot.