So, I picked up my new ring last week. The one with the memorial diamond created from Husband’s ashes. I had had it set into an infinity symbol, alongside my engagement diamond.

I had decided that the day I put this on would be the day I finally took my wedding ring off.

I looked at the new ring, not realising that I was holding my breath. I internally gasped. Did I like this new ring? Why did I feel like I didn’t like it? That’s when I realised, it wasn’t that I didn’t like it. In fact, I loved it. It was because putting it on meant that I was officially unmarried and the wedding band had to come off.
Ouch.

Some things I’ve had to do along this journey have been hard, some I have thought would be hard and weren’t too bad but this, this was really hard.

I no longer wear a band that tells the world I am taken. Because I’m not. I’m solo, I’m on my own, I’m…single. *sigh*
Ok, so I haven’t completely taken my wedding band off, I have just changed it’s position. It now lives where it’ll forever live, on my right hand. Because that ring means something too. That ring was put on my finger by a man who said, “Fuck yes”, instead of “I do”.
It carries a story, a good story, a story of great love and friendship. It may not say all those things to other people, but it says all those things and more to me.

This removing my ring task was hard. But I managed. I may or may not have told myself that if I didn’t cope well, I could always change back. So far, so good. The rings have stayed where they are. It helps that I love my new ring, I guess.