I just spent an hour on hands and knees, scouring the floor for the diamond from my engagement ring. The big middle one, of course. Little side guys are still intact. I am pretty sure that I had it this morning, because i think i would have noticed the empty setting, or it would have caught on something.
I did laundry this morning and seem to recall feeling a pull on the ring. Noticed it missing not long after. Stood, gaping at my own finger, the missing diamond as shocking as if my whole finger had just been amputated.
Just unfolded, gently shook out, and refolded every piece of laundry I folded this morning. Had kids down on all fours searching for “shiny things.” Checked the soles of everyone’s shoes to make sure no one stepped on it and picked it up in their shoe.
Cried on the phone with my sister.
Called Todd to tell him. Got pretty choked up.
Basically, I am freaking out.
I am not vain. I don’t give a shit how many carats the thing is, how brilliant it is. I never even cared a whit about having a fucking shiny rock until Todd surprised me with one. But now it is one of my most prized possessions. I will never forget the night Todd gave it to me and asked me to spend my life with him, sweat pouring down his forehead, kneeling in front of me. I will never forget showing it to my Grandma Palmer, and her suddenly coming out of her Alzheimer’s fog, and with tears in her eyes, looking at me and gripping my hand hard in the way she always did, and whispering to me, “Cherish this.”
And now I have lost it, and I know it is stupid to feel bereft at the loss of a rock, but I am. I am heartbroken.
