12/21/24

And so today’s moment of happiness despite the news.

An odd one today, with several layers.

First, you need to learn about my relationship with a billboard and a guy named Craig.

I live right across the street from the Waukesha Metro, which is a combination parking garage and bus terminal. Consequently, a lot of buses go by my home. Livvy, as a little girl when we first moved here, would stand at the floor-to-ceiling windows in our living room and wave at all the buses going by. The bus drivers began to wave back. Michael was also a daily rider of the buses, to get to and from work. He was walking to catch his bus home when he was struck by the passenger van.

So buses are a part of my daily life. And so is one particular bus-size advertisement. It’s for a well-known jewelry store, and the advertisement shows the owner’s face with a big friendly grin as he’s holding out what appears to be a diamond the size of a softball. His name is Craig Husar,  and his store bears his name.

I see his face many times every day, and over time, I began to say, “Hi, Craig,” whenever he passed. But the face appearances expanded. Whenever I’m out driving somewhere, I’d see a bus, and on that bus, Craig. So I’d say, “Hi, Craig.” When Michael was still alive, he would point at the buses and say, “Look, there’s your good buddy, Craig,” and we would both wave. Craig is also on billboards, and so I say hello to him there too.

Now if you read my blog regularly, you know that one of the things that bothered me so much after the accident was Michael’s missing wedding ring. As I was handed all of Michael’s things in the emergency room, I asked where his wedding ring was. They said he hadn’t come in with one. This made no sense because Michael always wore his wedding ring.

As the days, then weeks, passed, I had the hospital double-check the ER and the lost and found. I hounded the ambulance company and the police department. But no ring showed up. A couple months before the accident, Michael had carpal and cubital tunnel surgery, and so he took his ring off. I didn’t drive him that day, Olivia did, and so I worried that Michael took his ring off at the surgery center and didn’t get it back. When Michael became cognizant after the accident, I asked him about the ring, but he didn’t remember the surgery and he didn’t know where his ring was. After he died, I threw myself into reorganizing my kitchen, which I now recognize was a way that I was trying to gain control over my suddenly out of control life. In a drawer that holds our ladles and big spoons, way in the back corner, I found Michael’s ring. That drawer is under the segment of the kitchen counter that was designated as Michael’s. He must have set it in there to make sure it didn’t fall off the counter.

I, of course, promptly burst into tears when I found the ring. Since then, I’ve worn both Michael’s and my rings on my ring finger.

In recent weeks, I began to ponder the rings. I’ve had a few experiences now where I’ve filled out forms, asking for my marital status. I had to choose between married, single, or widowed. I didn’t feel single. I don’t want to be widowed. I felt married. But in legal terms, that is no longer what I am. I am no longer married.

So I checked widowed, and hated it.

But I began to look more and more at the wedding rings. And I thought more and more about how, through no choice of my own, I’ve been moved into a new phase of my life. There is a lot of emphasis, of course, in literature about losing a spouse, on moving on. I don’t like that phrase at all. It’s like I said yesterday in response to a student hoping I would find joy. I’m really not looking for joy, and I don’t think it’s about moving on. It’s about finding peace, and also finding acceptance in where I am now. While Michael isn’t physically in my life anymore, our lives will always be intertwined. The wedding rings represent those twenty-five years we were married. And now…I needed them to represent our new relationship. Our history and our relationship connects us, as does our daughter. But Michael is no longer present. I am alone.

And so I began to wonder about taking the wedding rings and making them one ring. I thought at first about having them soldered together. But I began to think more about having the two rings recreated into a new ring, a blend of the two of us. I am blended with Michael, even as I step into this new life, on my own.

So I began to wonder how I could find a designer for this new ring.

I thought about this last week as I was waiting for my coffee to finish reheating in the microwave. It was snowing, and so I stood by our windows and looked out, admiring the prettiness as I pondered this whole issue. And a bus went by. So did Craig Husar’s face. “Hi, Craig,” I said automatically.

And then I thought, Craig!

A quick search on the internet showed me that Craig’s jewelry store indeed did custom design. So today, I showed up in the store.

Shortly after arriving, I was introduced to Becca, Craig’s daughter, who designs jewelry.

I told her Michael’s whole story, my whole story, and why I felt I needed to make these two rings into one, to represent Michael always being a part of me, but also, my being on my own in a new life. A new chapter. I also want to wear the new ring on my right hand, not my left, leaving the ring finger on my left hand bare.

When you are a writer, you think in symbols, donchaknow.

I also told her to be sure to tell her father that I say hello to him several times a day.

And Becca understood. Looking at the two wedding rings, she picked up details from their design, including what made us pick out these rings to begin with. On either side of the channel of diamonds, there is a gold braid. And she began to braid and to blend. Blend. There’s that word again.

She came up with a beautiful design, using the diamonds from both of our rings, and the gold and metal from the rings themselves. That’s exactly what I wanted.

She left me for a moment, to figure out the pricing and such, and when she came back, she was accompanied by a man.

I recognized that grin immediately.

Craig Husar sat down next to me, introduced himself, and shared his condolences. He told me I’d come to the right place, and there was no one better to create this ring than his daughter. As we talked, he said, “You know, there’s a real warmth and energy here. I think your husband is in full agreement with what you’re doing.”

I’d been feeling it since I entered the store.

“Hey,” Michael said over and over, “there’s your good buddy, Craig.”

And Craig and his daughter are helping me with my next steps now.

I came home with a bare finger, which feels very strange. But I also came home with another piece of the peace I’m looking for.

Amazing.

And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.