My Treasure

It is the most stunning thing I own. There are no words to describe the beauty of it. The ring my husband presented to me on one knee. My most precious possession. It sparkles in every fraction of light, glitters in the dark, creates rainbows in the sunlight. It brings a smile to my husband’s face. How I adore him.

The ring, my treasure, has a story of its own. I will share it with you, because someone needs to.

I am extremely fortunate that my husband‘s parents are wonderful people. They welcomed me into their family with open arms; treated me like a daughter from the start. When I returned to their residence with the diamond on my finger they celebrated. “Only the best for you!” they said. I learned that they help pay for the costs. I am eternally grateful. A gift from my man and his family.

I would stare at it, the gem on my finger, twisted it in the light to watch it glimmer. I took tremendous care of the ring, removed it before I bathed, shined it every day, kept it close and secure. And very soon a silver band accompanied the gorgeous piece.

Our wedding was one from a dream. No one else in the world mattered, except my man waiting for me at the end of the aisle. It was perfect standing there next to him. His smile is my greatest pleasure and it was directed at me. We exchanged rings with an expression of pure joy. The crowd shouted their congratulations. I don’t remember anything else of the party, just that he was mine, and I was his forever.

Once the afterglow faded, and we settled into our apartment, I realized to my horror, that my finger was lighter. My sparkling treasure was no longer blinking up at me from my hand. It was gone. My silver band glinted in loneliness. I remember breaking down.

How could I have been so careless? To lose the precious gift that I was given? How do I explain this to my husband? To his family who spent every last dime they had to make sure I had “only the best”? What will I say? What will they say? 

I was beside myself with despair. My ring, my precious ring. Gone. The thing most important to me is no longer.  I didn't know what to do.

My husband, bless him, was so sweet and understanding when I broke the unfortunate news. He calmly wiped my tears and told me very softly that “It’s all right. We’ll look for it together. Please don’t cry love.”

We searched, oh, we searched. We practically trashed our home. Overturned everything, looked in every corner and retraced all of our steps—Nothing. No sparkle, no flicker of light, no glimmer. Nothing. My husband held me as I cried.

His family was angry. I couldn't blame them. I’d be angry too. They never outwardly showed any hostility or annoyance after their initial reaction, but our relationships started to fall apart. They never belittled me, and for that, I am grateful. But the warmth I once felt was no longer there. It hurt, yes, but I understand why. This family gave me everything that they had, and I didn’t show enough gratitude. My empty finger is proof.

It was long months before we stumbled upon it. I remember that day down to the last detail. My husband and I were taking a walk in G—- park. It was winter, snow piled on the side of the path and the moon was full. I remember ranting about my day when my husband paused in his step. I turned to look back at him, a question on my lips, but then I saw his face: shock, mixed with joy. He slowly removed his hand from his pocket, and there between his two fingers was my ring shining like a star in the moonlight!

My ring! I surged forward in delight and wrapped my arms around my husband. I was crying, laughing. I was ecstatic! My ring! My treasure! It's been found! It sparkled happily on my finger. I felt whole again. 

My husband became the punchline of many jokes and taunts for his little mishap. “You’re so slow, it was in your pocket the entire time? how could you miss it?” But he didn’t mind. His family was delighted and they apologized to me. My mother-in-law slapped my husband upside the head. We all laughed. The crisis finally came to an end, and with the glimmering diamond on my finger once again, things fell back into place.

I will share with you now a detail that took place before the finding. My husband was feeling unwell for quite some time. We decided to go to the hospital to run some tests. To our shock and absolute horror, the scans showed a tumor in my husband‘s lung.

“There must be a mistake, Doctor,” I pleaded. “It can’t be.” My husband, my Love, my Everything. His life was in danger. Everyone knows there’s no cure for cancer. 

The following months were filled with pain. The night we found my ring was the first in a while where my husband felt strong enough to go out. Times like that were scarce afterwards 

In our seventh year of marriage, after relentless fighting, the cancer won. A part of me died with my husband. It was the worst day of my life. His funeral was small and hushed. I will never be the same. My husband was my everything, and now he’s gone. 

My husband died forty years ago. The ring he gave me is my priceless possession. The proof of his love. I am telling this now, because if it never happened, I never would have known. But as I was searching through old things recently, I stumbled upon an old purse.  

While reaching inside it, I found a dusty diamond ring. 

An exact copy of the one twinkling on my finger.