With this ghost ring…

The most common greeting I’m receiving these days is, “How’s married life!”  I usually respond with “Fabulous!” or “Wonderful!”  but occasionally the cheeky, “Fantastic – we’ve finally consummated our relationship after 11 years!”  I have difficult to shock friends, so this response always gets a laugh!

I am still anxiously awaiting our wedding photos, and I know they’ll be brilliant!  Our photographer is one of the best, and I’m so glad we booked her.  I’ve had a couple of people come up to me since our wedding, expressing regret that they didn’t invest a bit more into their photos.  If you’re one of those people, remember, it’s never too late – and you can always renew your vows if your photos or memories of your first wedding was less than ideal.  My own parents renewed their vows and I remember the ceremony, as I and my sister attended, with my best friend’s father officiating.  To me, *that* was my parent’s wedding, even though I know that technically, they were married before I was born.

So remember, if you wish you’d had more flowers or eloped and wish you had invited a few friends and family – you still can!  It’s never too late, until you’re dead.  Even then, sometimes it’s not too late!

We have all these funny little social rules, don’t we?  They’re good things when they keep our society rubbing along with a minimum of conflict.  I’m a firm believer in manners, courtesy, and consideration, for example.  But I’m the first to throw convention in the garbage if it’s damaging or simply useless!

I had an interesting dream visitation last week.  That alone is unusual; as a medium, spirit folks don’t have to wait until I’m asleep to get my attention.  They’ll just pop in as soon as I think of them, or when I am talking about something connected to them that they care about.

Here’s the backstory:

Sweetie and have both inherited our mother’s wedding rings.  I, after my mother passed away, and Sweetie, after her father passed away and her own mother wanted Sweetie to have them.  We are *so grateful* and humbled to have been able to each take our mother’s wedding rings, which lived on their hands for decades during their own lifelong marriages.

We call them our “fancy” rings, meaning, we don’t wear them to work.  Both rings have diamonds, and I am simply not allowed to wear rings with stones to my work at the hospital, and Sweetie doesn’t want to wear her fancy ring to her job flipping B&Bs, which is physical and very dirty.

Instead, we wear placeholder rings made from silicone.  Sweetie likes hers quite a bit, but I’m not in love with mine.  I want my everyday wedding ring to be a permanent fixture, and my mother’s diamond to be something I can add to my hand on my non-hospital days – but I want my wedding band to stay on my hand all the time.

When did I become a traditionalist?  Well, I guess since our ceremony held so much meaning for me, I don’t want a cheaper-feeling ring to symbolize it.

I think that’s the part that bothers me – I know this ring will eventually wear out.  If the company is still around, they’ll replace it, but the point is I don’t want to be wearing a wedding band that will need replacement.

As I write this, a realized that silicone does not hold any sort of energy, either.  With many objects, wood, metal, even some plastic, I pick it up and immediately flash back to the last time I handled it, what I was thinking about, how I was feeling, who I was with.

I *want* my wedding band to hold on to the energy of my day-to-day.  You know, MY MARRIAGE.

So I decided that I don’t really like this silicone band, and I’m going to buy a gold wedding band to compliment my mother’s ring.

Then I had a brainwave.

My mother’s ring is pink gold, custom-made from a goldsmith in North Bay, Ontario, from a huge Russian rose-gold ring, before rose gold was popular or easily attainable.  The diamond in my ring is the same one I remember from her yellow gold ring in my childhood, I think my mother went through a couple of versions of her wedding ring, upgrading over the years on major anniversaries.  My father had communicated with the local jeweler my mother’s desire for a pink gold wedding ring, and the jeweler had kept his eyes open for months before he’d procured this large ring with enough metal to work with.

Remembering the story my father had told me about the making of the ring that would become my own wedding ring, I realized that I too had an unused pink gold ring sitting in my jewelry box.  It’s engraved with the initials of my great-grandmother, my mother’s mother’s mother.

Her ring was passed down to me, a teenager at the time of her death, through my mother and grandmother.  (The ladies in our family tend to live a *very* long time.)

As a teenager and in my early 20s, I LOVED this ring.  It is hand-engraved with details, it’s unique pink gold, (even more unusual when it was made, possibly in the early or mid 1900s) and it made me feel connected with the woman my great-grandmother was, when she was in her teens and twenties.  I met her a handful of times before her death in the 80s, but I honestly don’t remember much about those meetings.  I would have been 5 years old or younger, when I did meet her.

I wore the ring consistently for fifteen years, and have not worn it much in my 30s at all, mainly because in my maturity, the ring will need to be resized.  It’s too small for my ring finger, but too large for my pinky.

So I had this thought – why not remake this ring into my wedding band?  It seemed like a great solution!

Well, that night, I had a vivid dream.  I was visiting a place which was familiar to me, but also felt like I hadn’t visited in decades.  It was a two-storey stone cottage with a stone wall surrounding the comfortable yard.  The enclosed gardens were lush and well-established, and a pink climbing rose had overtaken most of the cottage roof.  The cottage itself was clean, whitewashed inside, and was quite warm and comfortable.  There was no glass in the windows, just open air.  Intuitively, I know it never gets cold there, and the rains are gentle, never blowing inside the house.  The air is fresh and cool, not damp or chilly, and there was a small, low fire in the kitchen, and a wood stove in the livingroom.  Polished wood plank floors throughout.  No electricity, but neither was it needed.  The land surrounding the house was rolling green beauty, with a forest visible a few miles away, and waving grass, wheat and flax in the fields close by.

A woman similar to my own age welcomed me inside.  We had tea (the best tea!) out of well-used and well-cared-for china cups, with soft ginger cookies.  We chatted for what seemed like an afternoon, in the kitchen.  I visited her dog, either a large spaniel or a small retriever, and her large and black pet rabbit, in her walled garden.  It was a lovely visit, like meeting a friend of a friend for the first time.

When I woke up, I realized who it was – my brain connected the dots.  It took the rest of the day for the realization to really sink it – I no longer felt good about remaking my great-grandmother’s ring into a wedding band!  This lovely lady was my maternal great-grandmother, kindly, politely impressing upon me that she did not want me to do anything to the ring that would cause the engravings to be altered.  It’s not that she objected to it being resized or remade, but if the engravings were lost, the history of the piece would be lost too.  Looking at it, no one would know the ring was unusual, there would be nothing to hint at its history, and the knowledge of that history very well might die with me.

I became obsessed with my great-grandmother for nearly two days – and then I was invited to view a family tree on Ancestry – I tree I was connected with after having my DNA processed and connecting with a third cousin who has an incredibly detailed online family tree.  There, I found this:

Untitled design (10)

A photo of my great-grandmother, looking very much like she did in my dream!  I don’t believe I had ever seen a photo of her when she was this young!  Although you can’t see her hands, I think she may even be wearing the ring in this photo.  I wonder if I’ll ever find out?

It’s very unusual for a relative to care what happens to their belongings after they die.  In sessions, this is not an uncommon question: Is it alright if I sell grandmother’s house?  Is it okay with her if I remake her ring into a necklace?  Or even, Does grandmother mind if I trade in her car?  She loved that car.

I had frankly assumed it would be okay with my great-grandmother that it would be just fine with her to remake her ring.  I had even assumed that her practical Scottish heritage would be pleased at my practicality!  She wasn’t upset, but she certainly wanted it known that she does, very much still care what happens to her ring!

So I’m not really sure what I’m going to do with my great grandmother’s ring.  I could have it resized to wear it again, but I could not wear it as a wedding band as long as it has engravings (as it’s not infection prevention kosher at the hospital.)  Part of me wonders if I should pass it along to one of her great-great-great granddaughters, when one of them becomes a teenager.  I certainly should specify this in my own will, as it’s clear that my ancestor in spirit actually IS still invested in the physical object she left behind!

4 thoughts on “With this ghost ring…

  1. Awww, I love this story. And it just so happens that my wedding band and engagement ring are — you guessed it — rose gold. 😉 I see the resemblance, too! There’s something about her face that gives me a really good vibe.

    Like

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