Now It Can Be Told
HANNIBAL, MO - I had hoped that someday I would be able to share the story of the ongoing nightmare I've been living for more than a week. Thankfully, I can share that story today.
This story begins on the morning of February 28, as
we were leaving our apartments in Indianola for a week in Dubuque. I was
cleaning some old newspapers out of our tour van. When I tossed an armful of the
newspapers them into the recycling dumpster in the parking lot, I was horrified
to see that the ring finger on my left hand was bare. The only times I've taken
my wedding ring off since getting married six months ago were to switch the ring
to my right ring finger during performances of "Così Fan Tutte." Needless
to say, I was immediately
distraught.
The dumpster wasn't that full, so I removed the newspapers I had just deposited and rummaged through what remained in the container. I had just thrown a big bag of garbage into the general waste dumpster, so I gave that bag a perfunctory examination to no avail. The time for the company to depart had arrived, and we had a two-hour drive ahead of us. Brian looked through the luggage compartment in the rear of the van, and the other company members searched the nooks and crevices of the van for my missing ring. I went back to my car to see if it had somehow fallen off my finger and into the trunk or underneath one of the front seats. After all of these fruitless searches, I went upstairs to take a look in the apartment.
I was absolutely sure that it must have fallen off my hand in the shower, and became a little more frantic when I saw that it wasn't there. It was nowhere to be found on the carpet of my bedroom, and it was clear to me that we were already running behind schedule. At Nicole's suggesion, I wrote a note to our landlady, asking her to keep an eye out for my missing ring. I dropped it in her mailbox and boarded the van, already exhausted emotionally. It's difficult for me to articulate everything that went through my mind - despair, loss, anger, fear, shame...just about everything you could imagine. "Should have gotten a smaller ring," I thought to myself, remembering the advice of the man who made and sold to us our wedding bands. He noticed my small knuckles and feared that I might lose my ring in exactly this way.
When we arrived at our hotel in Dubuque, I meticulously emptied the contents of my luggage: a rolling suitcase, a medium-sized shoulder bag, and my computer bag. I hoped that it would show itself, and was roundly disappointed when nothing materialized. I would have to wait until the end of the week to get back to Indianola, where I could resume my search in the apartment and in the parking lot. The garbage would long have been collected, meaning that if I had missed it in the recycling or the trash, it was likely gone forever. This was very difficult for me to take.
I told Katie about the missing ring, and while I'm sure the news was disappointing and saddening for her, it could only be a fraction of the senseless guilt and irresponsibility that I felt for this random loss. We assured one another that the ring could be replaced - that it was only a symbol of our love. I worked very hard to make myself believe that, but the idea of losing the actual ring from our wedding day was more deeply hurtful to me than I can adequately convey. The week in Dubuque was very difficult for me. On one hand, I couldn't wait to return to Indianola to look for the ring. On the other hand, I harbored genuine fear of going back there, because if the ring didn't materialize, I would have to face up to the grim reality that it would likely never be found.
The week in Dubuque finally came to an end, and we were greeted in Indianola by unseasonably warm 70-degree weather and sunshine. Rather than enjoy the early arrival of spring, however, I went straight to looking for my ring. The first thing I did was go through my bed, which I had made before leaving town. My brother Joel had convinced me that it was probably buried somewhere in there; perhaps I had removed it while I slept. I carefully removed each pillowcase and each sheet, and my heart sank as each inspection yielded nothing. Brian checked the bathroom and the kitchen, and the two of us looked underneath the living room furniture. I unpacked my luggage and tried my best to start coming to terms with the void on my left ring finger. Very upset, I called Katie and, for the first time in the ordeal, actually cried.
As I had for the entire week, I spent the weekend walking around like a total zombie. I tried my best to be myself, but it was difficult to think about much else besides my missing wedding ring. My left thumb continued to reach over instinctively to my ring finger, searching for the wedding band. Katie and I started to make plans to see the wedding ring guy again when I go home next week. I was done actively searching for it. I was resigned to the idea that the ring would have to find me.
We left on Sunday afternoon for Davenport, and I still couldn't help but blame myself for my predicament. I kept playing over and over in my mind the actions I went through that fateful morning. I should have dumped everything out of the recycling bin and searched harder, I thought. I should have emptied that garbage bag onto the parking lot asphalt and picked through it until I found it. Because I wasn't that thorough with my search, I would never know for sure if my ring went out with the trash or the recycling. That unknown possibility made me shudder, and I didn't know when, if ever, I would forgive myself for not doing everything I might have done to find it.
This morning, as I packed my bags to leave the Davenport hotel, I walked to my medium-sized bag to put something into it. When I walked away from the bag, I thought I saw a circular glimmer inside. Without rushing, I went back to the bag and looked inside. I didn't see anything right away, but then I realized that the bag had a loose card flap on its bottom, which is there to give the bag its firm shape. Of course, I lifted the card flap and was delighted to be reunited with my wedding band. I hugged Brian, who was in the room with me, and contacted Katie to share the good news.
A picture I thought might never take
It's hard for me to believe that I didn't think to look under the card flap of the bag before. I had been upset with myself because of my lack of thoroughness, and it turns out that I was precisely correct to lament that flaw. I'm grateful, however, that its only consequence was that my reunion with the ring was delayed. The ring is now back on my finger, and I can't exaggerate the relief and joy that I feel in having it again. I am complete once more, and can now just concentrate on finishing this leg of the tour and going home for a week. I will sleep much better tonight.
The dumpster wasn't that full, so I removed the newspapers I had just deposited and rummaged through what remained in the container. I had just thrown a big bag of garbage into the general waste dumpster, so I gave that bag a perfunctory examination to no avail. The time for the company to depart had arrived, and we had a two-hour drive ahead of us. Brian looked through the luggage compartment in the rear of the van, and the other company members searched the nooks and crevices of the van for my missing ring. I went back to my car to see if it had somehow fallen off my finger and into the trunk or underneath one of the front seats. After all of these fruitless searches, I went upstairs to take a look in the apartment.
I was absolutely sure that it must have fallen off my hand in the shower, and became a little more frantic when I saw that it wasn't there. It was nowhere to be found on the carpet of my bedroom, and it was clear to me that we were already running behind schedule. At Nicole's suggesion, I wrote a note to our landlady, asking her to keep an eye out for my missing ring. I dropped it in her mailbox and boarded the van, already exhausted emotionally. It's difficult for me to articulate everything that went through my mind - despair, loss, anger, fear, shame...just about everything you could imagine. "Should have gotten a smaller ring," I thought to myself, remembering the advice of the man who made and sold to us our wedding bands. He noticed my small knuckles and feared that I might lose my ring in exactly this way.
When we arrived at our hotel in Dubuque, I meticulously emptied the contents of my luggage: a rolling suitcase, a medium-sized shoulder bag, and my computer bag. I hoped that it would show itself, and was roundly disappointed when nothing materialized. I would have to wait until the end of the week to get back to Indianola, where I could resume my search in the apartment and in the parking lot. The garbage would long have been collected, meaning that if I had missed it in the recycling or the trash, it was likely gone forever. This was very difficult for me to take.
I told Katie about the missing ring, and while I'm sure the news was disappointing and saddening for her, it could only be a fraction of the senseless guilt and irresponsibility that I felt for this random loss. We assured one another that the ring could be replaced - that it was only a symbol of our love. I worked very hard to make myself believe that, but the idea of losing the actual ring from our wedding day was more deeply hurtful to me than I can adequately convey. The week in Dubuque was very difficult for me. On one hand, I couldn't wait to return to Indianola to look for the ring. On the other hand, I harbored genuine fear of going back there, because if the ring didn't materialize, I would have to face up to the grim reality that it would likely never be found.
The week in Dubuque finally came to an end, and we were greeted in Indianola by unseasonably warm 70-degree weather and sunshine. Rather than enjoy the early arrival of spring, however, I went straight to looking for my ring. The first thing I did was go through my bed, which I had made before leaving town. My brother Joel had convinced me that it was probably buried somewhere in there; perhaps I had removed it while I slept. I carefully removed each pillowcase and each sheet, and my heart sank as each inspection yielded nothing. Brian checked the bathroom and the kitchen, and the two of us looked underneath the living room furniture. I unpacked my luggage and tried my best to start coming to terms with the void on my left ring finger. Very upset, I called Katie and, for the first time in the ordeal, actually cried.
As I had for the entire week, I spent the weekend walking around like a total zombie. I tried my best to be myself, but it was difficult to think about much else besides my missing wedding ring. My left thumb continued to reach over instinctively to my ring finger, searching for the wedding band. Katie and I started to make plans to see the wedding ring guy again when I go home next week. I was done actively searching for it. I was resigned to the idea that the ring would have to find me.
We left on Sunday afternoon for Davenport, and I still couldn't help but blame myself for my predicament. I kept playing over and over in my mind the actions I went through that fateful morning. I should have dumped everything out of the recycling bin and searched harder, I thought. I should have emptied that garbage bag onto the parking lot asphalt and picked through it until I found it. Because I wasn't that thorough with my search, I would never know for sure if my ring went out with the trash or the recycling. That unknown possibility made me shudder, and I didn't know when, if ever, I would forgive myself for not doing everything I might have done to find it.
This morning, as I packed my bags to leave the Davenport hotel, I walked to my medium-sized bag to put something into it. When I walked away from the bag, I thought I saw a circular glimmer inside. Without rushing, I went back to the bag and looked inside. I didn't see anything right away, but then I realized that the bag had a loose card flap on its bottom, which is there to give the bag its firm shape. Of course, I lifted the card flap and was delighted to be reunited with my wedding band. I hugged Brian, who was in the room with me, and contacted Katie to share the good news.
A picture I thought might never take
It's hard for me to believe that I didn't think to look under the card flap of the bag before. I had been upset with myself because of my lack of thoroughness, and it turns out that I was precisely correct to lament that flaw. I'm grateful, however, that its only consequence was that my reunion with the ring was delayed. The ring is now back on my finger, and I can't exaggerate the relief and joy that I feel in having it again. I am complete once more, and can now just concentrate on finishing this leg of the tour and going home for a week. I will sleep much better tonight.
Posted: Tue - March 8, 2005 at 05:13 PM
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Published On: Mar 23, 2005 10:43 PM
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Published On: Mar 23, 2005 10:43 PM