I always loved my mom’s wedding ring and I lovingly harassed her for years about how, since she and my father were divorced, she did not need it anymore. Mom had long ago set the engagement diamond into the band and I thought it was so lovely. She’d been single since… well, just this side of forever, it never really felt like a wedding ring to me. It was diamond ring that, like me, had its origin in my parent’s relationship but wasn’t really about them anymore.
Wow, I don’t think I ever realized that about the ring and me until just now when I typed it. That happens a great deal with this process. As we interview the items in our physical space (to see if they are of more value to us than the space they occupy), we sometimes discover surprising details of our relationship with those things. If we ask the right questions, we can explore the deeper, more intimate understanding… the secret stories between us and our stuff.
Where did this item come from?
What does it mean to me?
Do I use this item, why or why not?
How would my life be different without it?
Anyway, for years I offered to take that ring off of her hands, to enjoy it on her behalf, and on my 21st birthday she gave it to me. I was stunned and thrilled. She told me later that she’d worked hard to convince me that I would never get it just so she could surprise me.
I loved wearing that ring… for a while.