Diary of a Widower

Daily entries by a husband, who stayed behind with his two sons

Can you still see the ring?

MONDAY, August 2 – Time to put it to the test, since I’m starting to have doubts. ‘Eamonn, can you come here for a minute?’  He swims over to me at a leisurely pace. Sitting on the side of the pool, I hold out both hands and spread my fingers.  ‘On which finger did I wear my wedding ring?’

He looks once, then again, and points to the correct hand but the wrong finger: my forefinger. No go.

I bring my left hand closer, and ask: ‘Can’t you tell that that’s where I used to wear my wedding ring?’

He can’t.

‘Take another look.’

‘Well, maybe.’ He says it without conviction. Am I the only one who can see it?  Later on, to be on the safe side, I check with Sander.  He immediately points to the right finger.  ‘You can still see it,’ he says.

In that same pool we run into former neighbors who ask where Jennifer is. Eamonn starts pulling on my hand when I go into too much detail, but I can’t very well dash by shouting that Jennifer is dead and then do a cannonball into the pool. Although, I’m tempted.

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