Of Widows’ Weeds and Red-Headed Janes

The man I fell in love with wears a wedding ring that will occasionally graze my palm when I take his hand. That ring is one of the most sacred symbols of marriage. The way I see it, as long as the wearer has it, it is its own living entity, signifying a connection between two people. It’s a beautiful thing.

A widower must choose when to take the ring off and put it in a new, special place – if they ever choose to remove it, at all. It’s up to them, within their own sense of time, how to deal with that. I would hope that Daniel wouldn’t choose a specific date that brought turmoil, like the date of his wife’s death, to take that step moving forward. An anniversary, perhaps, but who can say what is best for someone who lost a love of their life?

Is someone who wears their wedding ring, incapable of loving you? I believe that loved ones passed will be forever loved – and that our hearts are strong enough to be in love again, after we have lost. Daniel earned the right to wear his ring and I support his every day of dealing with the tragedy he suffers from. But sometimes, as my emotions for him grow, I find myself increasingly attached to the moments between us two – and I am thrown off and saddened by the unexpected feeling of his ring against my hand.

A girl grows up learning to avoid men wearing rings. We know to look for the pale color it leaves on their finger, should they remove it before going out. The commitment, the occupancy, the ties and multiple factors combined are engrained in us from an early age and those raised well know better than to ever become involved with a married man. Just the same, we are wary of the widow because he is surely lost and taken, just the same.

I have been lucky enough to have never lost a companion the way that Daniel did. Breakups with friends and dear ones have been hard enough – I cannot imagine the pain and devastation of losing someone who did not want to go, whose time on Earth was suddenly taken. I feel like I am always meeting the same woman he has lost; celebrating the image of someone he’s mourning, ultimately connected to someone special as I am wishing for a place within a heart designed for one woman.

Every day spent with Daniel is at the sake of my feelings. I am not his focus, as much as he has tried to see me just like the million other things in life that require attention. Part of the impossible puzzle, he knows I’m there feeling, seeing, unintentionally being strung along in a scenario that everyone else would advise against if they only knew the half of it.

The man with the wedding ring is the man that I fell in love with. What I didn’t expect – what worries me – is that he’s the one I’ve come to need more and more, every day. He’s a loyal, intelligent person who has been telling me that it’s time to plan for my future…

He ought to know better, the price you pay when you dare to believe in such a thing.