A couple months before my father died, my mother found him rumaging through his night table drawer. She asked what he was searching for so frantically. It was his wedding ring. It had gone missing a fourth time! He had lost weight and the ring slipped from his finger on 3 other occasions. My parents once found the lost ring in the street next to his car. Another time they found it a shoe under his night table. A third time the ring was found under the table in a corner of the bedroom. This time the search went on for his ring, but it was never found.
Off and on after my father died, we continued to look for the ring. I had been through my dad’s night table and jewelry box a couple times. My mother had done the same multiple times as well as my brother and my wife. Six months after his funeral we scheduled an unveiling. This is a ceremony when the gravestone is covered with a cloth and after some prayers and an informal service is held, the stone is unveiled thus marking a closure to the final transition.
The day before the unveiling my wife, Rose and I were at my mother’s house. Rose was helping to sort out and give away my father’s clothing and other posessions. I was sitting in his rocking chair as my mother went through his jewelry box yet again to see if I wanted to keep anything. As she removed two small lolly pops from the box she let out a loud scream. It was reminiscent of the scream you might make when you walk through the kitchen at 3am to get something to drink and you see a large black roach scurry across your bare feet! Yea! That’s pretty much what it sounded like.
As I looked in her hand I saw it. It was Dad’s wedding ring!