What amazing things have happened in the days in which I’ve been absent. The most life altering change is that I’ve married a most wonderful man, perfect for me in the most imperfect ways. To consider myself blessed is an understatement. Happiness has come to live at Winterpast in stacks of boxes and new belongings.
While being in the middle of the organized chaos of a move, life has been a whirlwind including the World Series, packing tape, and two dogs that have taken up fence barking with the neighbor’s dogs. No more the quiet and mundane life of the past, things are ripping around here like the King Tides of the central coast.
I promise I’ll get to the details leading up to the big event, however, I want to start with a quiet little story about the rings. During the honeymoon, the story about our wedding rings brought a tear to the eye of one or two. Perfect for the first day back at the keyboard.
When my Hubba-Hubba-Hubby (now HHH, formally known as My Mysterious Marine and Fabulous Fiancé) first proposed, we were a little stumped. If you’ve just happened to look for wedding rings, you know. If not, trust me, it’s a daunting task. Diamonds or another precious stone? Gold, titanium, or something else? Tattooed rings? The list is endless.
Both HHH and I enjoyed long and beautiful marriages to high school sweeties before cancer and COPD changed all that. Those relationships made us into two people that fell in love over the last year. Two heavenly angels now watch over us and might’ve even had a lot to do with us ending up together. We’d like to believe that they’re dancing a jig in heaven celebrating that we’ve found earthly companions with whom to continue our journey.
After becoming a widow and widower, there were many times we thought about what should be done with the rings that remained. Sell them? Gift them to family? Make them into something else? Nothing seemed right for either of us so they sat in jewelry boxes at two different houses in the same town.
After thinking about the situation, we decided the rings were a symbol of the wonderful lives we shared with former spouses. They were also a statement about the people we’d become during those relationships. What better materials from which to create rings that will be with us until we die?
And so, the plan came together.
HHH just happened to know a guy that just happened to be an amazing jeweler who just happened to be married to a jewelry design genius. Together, like old friends, the four of us sat together at their little shop and visited while a design was drawn on paper with pencil. From there, the wax prototypes were created for our approval. In a month, the real rings were ready to be picked up. I will tell you, they are blindingly spectacular.
By using our past, we created a present that we’ll enjoy long into the future. The love embedded in the gold was there long before I ever said my vows to the most handsome guy standing at the end of a very long aisle.
In the first days of our married life, we’ve found it delightful to ride around in a luxury car with painted windows. “Just Married”. “J Loves B 4-ever”. “He asked and she said “Yes””. With those few words written in white paint, the waves, honks, and well wishes have warmed our hearts. We have made more than a few people tear up as they’ve listened to our love story while sharing their own.
In the next weeks, the plan is coming together. Grievinggardener.com will remain to help those just entering the nightmare of widowhood. From the sadness, loneliness, and grief, good things can again grow. Just as the devastation remaining after a forest fire, with rains, sunshine, and the passing of time, new life comes. So it is with the journey of widowhood.
In the next months, look for a new blog that will chronicle life as a 67 year old bride. It isn’t for the weak or timid, I can assure you of that.
Whatever you do today, reflect on the first days of your own married life while remembering the beauty and fragile nature of a new marriage. That’s where HHH and now I stand as we enjoy things like Thursday Night Football and the World Series. Our Winter has past. There is so much to celebrate. I’ll tell you more tomorrow.
