The Unthinkable

I interrupt my venue visit series to tell you about the crisis I alluded to in my previous post. During our visit to McLean Gardens Ballroom, the caterer was excitedly telling us about their packages, how the room is normally set up, and how the appetizers are served when I reached for my glass of wine and noticed - my engagement ring was gone.

Gone.

My reaction was noticeable because Mr. Bronx said, "Woah" and the caterer asked, "What happened?" In the moment, I figured it's not a big deal, I probably left it on my desk at work and we'll just return there so I can get it after the tasting. I was sure of this as I NEVER remove my ring during work but I did recall it being really loose since my office was cold. So loose in fact, I moved it from my ring finger to my middle finger. The tasting continued but I had that nagging worrying feeling throughout. Still, I was sure that I would return to my office and all would be back to normal.

After the tasting, we drove back to the office. I greeted the security guard, took the elevator up, walked into my office, turned on the overhead light, and looked on my desk. There was nothing there. My eyes widened. I immediately looked all around my desk, through papers and under the keyboard, nothing. I called Mr. Bronx in the car and asked him to look in my gym bag thinking maybe it was so loose that it came off when I put my clothes in there. Nothing. I dropped down on all fours in my office and looked on the floor in case it slid off my desk. Nothing.

I went back to the lobby and asked the guard if anyone had turned in a ring. No. I asked the gentleman mopping the lobby. No. Asked him to ask the woman who removes the trash from our offices. No.

At this point, I was panicked. I return to the car where Mr. Bronx was waiting, got in, closed the door, and sobbed uncontrollably all the way home. When I arrived home, I dumped my bag, went through all pockets, and everything I was wearing. Not there.

All I could do was cry. And cry.

Mr. Bronx proved his amazingness (it's a word) throughout this ordeal. He just comforted me and said, "We'll get another one." The best thing he said to me was, "Why are you crying? We're still engaged. It can be replaced." To which I replied some babbling, bratty mess about wanting my ring. I was out of my body and I must have looked like it because I could hear Mr. Bronx calling me by my full name repeatedly like he was trying to get me back into this world.

I.was.miserable. I think I cried myself into exhaustion. I woke at 4AM. My mind was racing about where the ring could be, all these possibilities, how could I be so irresponsible. Race. Race. Race.

I got dressed and went to work. I went through every nook and cranny of my office. I sent a company wide email offering a reward and left notes for the cleaning staff. At this point, I've done everything I could do. It's been a week and I am losing hope of ever finding my ring.

I feel terribly guilty. I never lose anything. How could I lose something with such importance? The worst part is that I have no clue what happened. It's like it disappeared into thin air.

Thankfully, it's insured and can be replaced but that's not the point. The replacement ring will be just that - a replacement. It's not the ring he chose, it's not the ring he proposed with. It's not the ring he worked hard for and thought about and hid from me. It's none of that. Still, it could be worse. It could be a total loss.

Sometimes as I am drinking my morning tea, I am reminded of the ring that would bump the mug and I remember it's not there. It sucks. Or I'll wash my hands or do the dishes at home and feel like I forgot to put it back on. Sigh, I miss it. My mind is always looking, always thinking, "Maybe if I check here." I have had to tell myself to let it go. I said my prayers to find it and if that is to be it will just appear much like it just disappeared.