Random. Just like it should be.

When the love of my life decided to ask me to marry him I was presented with a magnificent 1 ctw three stone diamond ring in exquisite swirled white gold. The ring was set in such a way that all the facets of all three stones were completely visible and it shone in even the dimmest of lights. Quite simply, it was the most stunning ring I’ve ever had the luxury or wearing.
Now’s the part when you notice that I keep writing about this work of art in the pas tense.
One fateful night in December 2011 (mind you we got engaged in August of the same year) the ring was lost in what can only be called a comedy of errors.
NOTE TO ALL BETROTHED OUT THERE:
DO NOT TAKE YOUR RING OFF TO APPLY LOTION WHILE DRIVING AND HAND IT TO YOUR FIANCÉ ASSUMING HE KNOWS YOUR DROPPING THE RING IN HIS HAND/LAP

I’m driving, at night, and remove my ring. I hold it out over my fiancé expecting him to have held out his hand. Not noticing (because I’m driving) that he did not notice me do this and as such never held out his hand.
Skip forward about a half hour or so, when I notice that I’m not wearing my ring. We hop out of the car and begin to search. It’s nowhere to be found.
The only explanation we can think of is that it must have fallen into his clothes and become lost somewhere when he exited the car.
I say this because the next week was spent tearing down my entire car and searching EVERYWHERE.

Deeply saddened by the loss, I eventually decide to wear my grandmothers engagement ring in place of the one I lost so carelessly.
My grandmothers ring is beautiful, and sentimental for sure, but let’s face it, a single smaller stone just didn’t seem as amazing as the original ring I was given. It didn’t have that shine, the instant rainbows that would dance around my hand when light hit the carat worth of luster that used to adorn my ring finger. And this was the hardest part for me to come to terms with.
This was until yesterday, when all of a sudden my grandmothers ring began to shine. Mind you not the disco ball effect that my other ring had, but as I drove I started to see little bursts of light surrounding the diamond my grandfather once presented to my grandmother.
And I knew then that my grandfather, god rest his soul, was there with me. I just knew that he approved. It might sound silly, or crazy to some. But to me, it was a clear sign that it doesn’t matter. Yes, I had made a huge error in the events causing me to lose the ring my fiancé presented to me, but I now get to wear my grandmothers ring.
Who cares what size the diamond is, or how much it shines?
It’s the love given that matters. And now, I am proud to wear the stone that she wore for all those years.
They were happily married until the day my grandfather died, and I can only hope I am lucky enough to be so blessed.