Just when I think I've regained my composure...
I had just finished posting that last entry when Ken came into the room, and sat down beside me. He looked a little unsure as to how to start, and then he just blurted out,
"Um, this is awkward. I think. But I have a question for you..."
And he held up his father's wedding ring.
*cue me bursting into tears*
Mom had decided that Ken should be given dad's wedding ring. She did not say that he had to wear it. Only that it would have been what dad wanted, for his eldest son to keep the only piece of jewelry he had ever worn.
Ken wavered "I would wear it, I think, but not if it would make you uncomfortable, or if it's something you don't want me wearing."
I was overcome. That ring is so very special to me. In fact, in retrospect I'm thinking that subconsciously, I must have had Ken's ring designed to be very similar to his father's; white gold with a very subtle pattern. And it represents one of the very best marriages I have ever witnessed.
I couldn't be more proud of what that ring represents, and I couldn't be more pleased that my husband wants to wear it.
And that's a good thing, because he put it on, and I'm pretty sure it's not gonna come off without surgery now. I forgot that Ken's right ring finger was broken when he was younger, and the broken knuckle effectively became a lock, holding his father's ring in place.
I keep sitting down beside him, holding his hand, running my thumb over the 'new' ring.
It is so very precious.