Valentine’s Day had come and gone, but there was one thing missing. Lord, where is my ring? I thought as I got ready for bed. My husband, John, had bought it for me before he died, but somehow he’d never given it to me.
I glanced behind the bedroom door, where John’s old blue robe still hung, the same place it had hung for our nearly 26 years of marriage. How will you ever give me the ring now? I wondered.
John loved to give presents. No matter how many times I told him I didn’t need any fancy jewelry, he always found me something special. “It will make me happy to see you wear it,” he always said.
I got into bed and turned out the light. John didn’t need gold and silver to tell me that he loved me. His love was visible in the way he took care of me, our two daughters and our granddaughter. On our last Valentine’s Day together he took me out for a romantic dinner.
We held hands in the candlelight and reminisced about the past: our first date, the days our children were born, the birth of our granddaughter. He gave me a beautiful card and a bouquet of roses—but no jewelry. For the first time, it seemed John had actually listened to me.
Or so I thought, until I found that store receipt. I immediately knew when John had sneaked away to make a purchase. I’d returned from an errand to find the house empty, even though John’s illness usually kept him at home.
Just as I was really starting to worry, John walked in the front door. “Where were you?” I asked.
He wouldn’t say, but it was so close to Valentine’s Day, I had my suspicions. I’ll let him have his surprise, I thought. But our Valentine’s dinner was so wonderful I’d forgotten all about the mystery gift. John died soon after. Now I needed to know what had happened to John’s surprise.
“Perhaps he ordered something and never got a chance to pick it up,” I’d suggested to my daughter one day. We drove over to the store. She explained the situation to the manager.
“Of course I remember,” he said. The manager opened a catalog and pointed to a picture of a ring with multiple stones. “It’s a mother’s ring,” he said, “with a birthstone for each child. Your husband ordered three stones: alexandrite, garnet and sapphire.”
One for each of our daughters and one for our granddaughter. John had surprised me again. “Is the ring ready?”
“According to our records, it was already picked up,” the manager said. He showed me the receipt, with John’s signature at the bottom. John had definitely picked up the ring. But if he had picked it up, why hadn’t he given it to me? Where was it now?
I tossed and turned in my bed. Where is that ring? I thought. Finally, I drifted off to sleep.
I dreamed I was in a car, looking out at the ocean. John was at my side. He looked as young and strong as he had when we first met. John gave me a fortune from a Chinese cookie. The fortune had my initials on it. “Turn it over,” said John. “It’s your claim ticket.”
“For what?” I asked.
“The ring.”
“But I went to the store and they said you picked it up.”
John shook his head. “I’m picking it up on Saturday.”
With that I woke up. I couldn’t make sense of the dream, but seeing John again had filled me with joy. For the first time since his death I felt strong and ready to move forward with my life.
There were things I couldn’t put off any longer. Like donating John’s clothes to Goodwill. I’d spend the week going through his wardrobe and ask my daughter to make the trip with me on Saturday. I’m picking it up on Saturday, John had said in the dream. But what did that mean?
By the time my daughter arrived to drive me over to Goodwill I had a pile of clothes ready. I’d gone through every pocket, emptied all John’s closets and drawers. But I never came across a mother’s ring with three stones.
I did one final sweep of the bedroom closets before tying up the bags of clothing. “I’ve checked every item,” I said. “It’s just not here.”
Saturday, John had said in the dream. Just like today. It was like a message I could not decipher.
I turned to leave the bedroom and something caught my eye. A flash of color on the back of the door. John’s old robe, hanging on the hook where it had hung all those years. It was so familiar I hadn’t remembered it. But looking at it now, I felt a rising excitement.
I slipped my hand into the left robe pocket. I felt the little square box. Inside was a ring with three sparkling stones: alexandrite, garnet and sapphire.
John had surprised me again. He found a way to tell me he loved me, one last time, with one last gift, when I most needed to know it. I wear my ring every day. John’s still taking care of us, with a little help from the angels.
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