I ran back and forth between my house and the house next door without coming up for air. My mother was moving into next door and I wanted to make everything perfect so she’d feel at home. I unpacked dozens of boxes unwrapped a plethora of individually wrapped items and took out huge bags of crunched up newspaper to the garbage every few hours. I took a break at noon and went to help set up for a charity tea that would take place that evening. I helped with set-up every year but this year I was also performing in the evening’s entertainment a comedy skit.

It was one of those frenzy-filled days perfect for the nervous energy I’d found I needed to expend ever since my mother had been diagnosed with cancer. At first there were the doctors and treatments to keep me busy. Then there was fixing up of the house next door: minor construction so she wouldn’t have to climb stairs changing sinks and counter tops in the kitchen so they would be kosher and a fresh paint job. I’d packed up her old apartment moving day had come and gone and now I was unpacking. I wanted every picture hung and every clock set to the right time.

My husband came next door to remind me of the time and only then did I realize how late it was. We walked out my mother’s side door together and through our side door directly across the driveway. We talked about how nice it was going to be for my mother to be able to pop into our home so easily and vice versa. As I walked through the kitchen towards the stairs rubbing my freezing hands together to warm them I realized that the ring finger on my left hand felt oddly light. My husband had just bought me a beautiful diamond eternity band and … it was gone. 

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