Self Assessment

A couple of weeks ago I wrote a tongue-in-cheek post about looking for a date.

I didn’t get one, but I did get a response from a friend. She reminded me my hesitantly in rejoining the dating scene could be because of my outward expressions of remembering my wife after nine years.. Or, as she put it, “Of course you remember her … and she was the love of your life … but these outward expressions would generally turn women off from wanting to join you at … outings.” She challenged me to “shake off any survivor guilt or pity party.”


She obviously is right … to an extent. Her circumstances are a little different {although we’re both single} including by about 30 years or so. I suspect her expectations might be a little different as well.

The incident, however, reminded me of a conversation I had with Sonni a number of years after Karen died. I don’t know how we got on the subject, but wedding bands came up. She said she had kept hers on her left ring finger for about five years. It was Scott’s protection of her. Then she said, “What about you? Why do you continue to wear your wedding ring?”

In my typical clueless reaction, I simply shrugged my shoulders and said, “I don’t know. The idea never came up.”

Then my widow in crime added, “Would you take it off?”

In my typical clueless reaction, I simply shrugged my shoulders and said, “I don’t know. I haven’t given it much thought.” After a pause, I added, “My fingers are a little chubbier than they were.”

“We can do something about that,” she countered. “Do you want to remove your wedding band?”

In my typical clueless reaction, I simply shrugged my shoulders and said, “I guess so. There’s no specific reason why I keep it on. I just haven’t had a reason to take it off.”

With that she got some waxed dental floss and started wrapping my finger tightly. Just before tucking in the end through the ring she said, “Are you sure about this?”

I guess my non-verbal communication belied my verbal “Sure, why not.”

She looped the floss through the ring and started to tug, very gently and for only a fraction of a second. She stopped, looked me in the eyes, shook her head and said, “Nope. You’re not ready” as she reversed the wrapping process.

“What? Wait?” I clammered.

“I see it in your eyes,” she said. “Your heart is not willing to let go.”

We never spoke about it again … but I knew she was right. And truth be known, my heart may never be willing to let go or even be shared.

Besides, I wouldn’t wish me on another woman.

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: It’s only called work when you’d rather be doing something else.

About wisdomfromafather

I'm just an ordinary guy walking along the journey of life.
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