It happened last week. I was lying face down on the chiropractor table and heard a snap that did not come from body. It wasn’t until I was sitting up and about to leave that the source of the not-human snap was discovered. Dr. Fran collected Chris’s ring, my scooter charm and my now broken chain from the table and said “Oh no! I know how much this means to you.” She poured the chain and other items into the palm of my hand and at first I couldn’t register what she was talking about. I exclaimed an “Oh no!” right back at her and then I shrugged as if it was no big deal. I think I even said “no biggie.” My insides did not reflect my outsides. That feeling of cutting open a palm or finger and watching the blood pool up and then that lightheadedness that comes just before passing out, those were the feelings that washed over me. I walked out to my car with shaky legs but with a smile plastered onto my face.

I pulled myself together and then felt silly for having a gut wrenching reaction to a broken chain. This is fixable. I didn’t lose Chris’s ring or my scooter charm. It’s a good excuse to walk into the Tiffany’s store (I thought had closed) and on Friday, after subbing a yoga class, I scooted right on over. My Elsa Peretti olive leaf ring has been sitting in my jewelry box for ages. I caught the ring on my car door and seriously bent it out of shape, lucky to have not ripped my finger off in the process. I plonked the ring down along with my chain so that both could be repaired and polished. While a sales rep filled out all the necessary paperwork to ship my things to the New York store, I thought for a moment about just buying a new chain. I said something about this out loud and the sales rep stopped me. She said “Tiffany’s is no longer making that style of chain. The new chains are much thinner. You’re going to want to keep this thicker chain for it’s sturdiness.” I leaned back in my chair, slightly disappointed but remembering clearly the day I purchased that chain. The sales rep then had been equally attentive, making sure the chain was sturdy, yet elegant.

That happened almost twelve years ago to the day.

Exactly twelve years ago, Talaura and I, along with Kizz and Amber, took the very first boat out to the Statue of Liberty. We were the first people on the island on the 4th of July and our mission was to leave some of Chris’s ashes somewhere. We found our spot, a rock on the other side of the fence that surrounds the island. If I’d taken a picture from the water, it would look like Lady Liberty was looking down at a little pile of Chris. I didn’t get that picture. In fact the picture I did take just looks like some ashes on a rock. There is nothing in that picture to clue you in on the location. The Statue of Liberty was the first pancake of ash dispersals. A few days later, I walked into Tiffany’s and bought the chain that has been holding Chris’s wedding ring ever since.

Now it’s broken and Chris’s ring is sitting on my jewelry box and not resting on my sternum.

I had a fleeting thought that maybe the broken chain was a sign that it was time to stop wearing Chris’s ring. It is a heavy ring, chunky and sometimes painful if it hits me in the face during yoga. I do feel lighter. I picked up the coffee can that holds Chris’s ashes so that I could clean there recently and I noticed that this can feels lighter. It doesn’t have the heft it had at the beginning of all this and I might be able to fit Chris into a smaller coffee can. I took an empty 15 oz Cafe Du Monde can to pick up Chris’s ashes and was kindly told that I’d need a bigger can. Amy and Chad went on a scavenger hunt for a larger coffee can to put Chris in for his Celebration of Life service. I think Chris would now fit in that Cafe Du Monde can. So…things do get lighter and I bet Michael would be thrilled if I stopped wearing Chris’s wedding ring. It is something we do not talk about, but something mentioned years ago leads me to believe he wouldn’t mind the absence.

Except…

I don’t like the way this particular lightness feels. It has been six and half days without the weight and comfort of the ring resting near my heart. I don’t want to get used to the feeling of being without it. There is no relief in this weightlessness. I am a helium balloon that needs that metal ring tied on the end of my string to keep me from simply floating away. And I will be floating for another two to three weeks. What I am realizing is that while some parts of my loss feels heavy, it is a heaviness that feels like a weighted blanket. It is obviously not a struggle to be carting it around with me. I’m more than strong enough. The weight of it all brings me comfort.

So when you see me standing with my hand on my chest, positioned with my palm pressed against my sternum, know that I am just holding this space. This is the temporary metal ring at the end of my string, a very poor place holder for the next weeks.