The Rings

Recently my mother gave me a set of rings which I then took to the jewelers to be polished and repaired. Ten days later, after picking them up, I happened to catch a glimpse of them on my newly encircled finger when I was reminded of the story they had to tell.

Over fifty years ago, in China, my step father married his first wife. The rings on my finger were the rings they wore throughout their lives to symbolize their union. He is from England, she was from Pennsylvania. They lived in China for ten years then moved to the United States where both went back to college. When they married he was 28 and she was 52. That was back in the 1950’s, a time when such unions had to be against all norms. However, they experienced a long and happy union of over 30 years. Shortly after she died, in her eighties, he married my mother.

I have been mesmerized, by my step-fathers resilience and bravery for marrying a woman he loved though it no doubt slammed in the face of social norms. Never more than now, have I experienced a curiosity, a need, to ask him all about it. Yesterday was the anniversary of Jim’s and my mother’s marriage of 18 years. With that union he became the father I desperately needed, and I became the daughter he longed for.

I now wear their rings as a symbol; to remind me to not be afraid to seek my spirits truth, even though it might be different from what is ‘normal.’