All Is Not Lost...Until I See It Lost

I've lost many a thing over the years. I mean who hasn't? I spend my time losing stuff and then finding it when I hadn't even realized it was lost. Although I imagine that hardly counts as lost, if you don't miss it, and end up finding it when you don't really need it at all.

But other than those unlost and found things, I've lost - I mean really lost - a lot of things. Oh, we could go into the psychological part of it, losing friends, losing love, losing IT, period...yeah, I've been there too. I've probably lost IT more than I've lost any of those other unmaterial things, seeing as I have a short fuse and a whole lotta mouth. But I digress.

Realizing something is lost is a feeling I really hate. I mean if I lose something and I KNOW I'm losing it, it sucks, but at least it's right there in front of me. Like the time I went fishing with my very expensive and exclusive I-saved-up-my-allowance-all-summer-for-these sunglasses. Yeah, I know. 16 and stupid, but hey, weren't we all back then? Bend over the side of the boat to see my catch come in, feel them slip from my head, see them enter the water more than hear them, because they really just make a little insignificant *sloosh* as they hit...like it's nothing out of the ordinary, and it takes my brain about 3 seconds to fully realize what just happened. I remember watching those glasses slowly make their way to the bottom of the lake, lazily, all the while reflecting rays from the sun above me. It hit me then that losing the most expensive and valued item I had with me that day was almost poetic. My heart sank just like those glasses did that day, and when I finally woke up from the daze to realize what was happening, it was too late to make a grab for them. So I just watched endlessly until I couldn't see the reflection on the lenses anymore, then kept watching. Forgot the pike on the other end of the line, forgot the fact that I was almost turning the boat over. I had forever LOST those glasses. But what hurt the most was that they weren't LOST, really. They were right there, at the bottom of the lake. Had those glasses been crushed by a bulldozer and reduced to little more than a plastic pancake, it would undoubtedly have been easier on me. But they weren't. They were intact. Still quite perfect. Just unreachable. And THAT was what hurt.

But at least it was done and over with. There, then gone, shock, mourn, move on. The glasses were lost, so buy another pair and deal with it.

Realizing you've lost something when you didn't know it was lost is a whole other matter. This is the one that really gets to me. So while you may be wondering why I'm telling you all this, I am still in full where-did-I-not-look-yet mode.

I lost a ring. Or rather, while it may not be lost, I do not know where it is. This is the stage of in-between. Not quite lost, just not accounted for. I haven't given up on the idea that it may turn up, and in fact am still quite actively looking for it. But I can't wear it, because I don't know where it is.

I don't own a lot of jewelry. Or rather, I don't wear a lot of the jewelry I own. I certainly don't buy lots of it, but when I do, it's because I really, really like it. Because it's one of a kind, or really appeals to me. And it's usually not the most expensive stuff, but if I really like it, it becomes really important to me. Priceless.

Let me tell you about this ring, so you'll understand the depth of my sorrow at - maybe - having lost it.

I moved out of my parent's house pretty early in life. We were having issues (by this I mean I was having issues and it was weighing on them) so I did what any young and rebellious and self-righteous kid who thinks they're better than everyone else does: I moved out. Moved in with my then boyfriend at his parent's for a while, then realized this arrangement was just like living at home but having to be somewhat polite on top of that, so that didn't last long. I convinced him to get an apartment, and since we were both in school and working part time, it was rough times. No need to tell you that we got the PC cookies and No Name toilet paper.

(Just to note here that if you've EVER experienced the shafing and fiber rub of no name recycled toilet paper, you'll understand how tight we were. We ended up spending more on Ozonol cream than we were saving on the paper, so we switched back to Cottonnelle in about a month's time)

Anyway, all this to say that I didn't have much money. As time went by, my relationship with my parents mended somewhat, and one day I went shopping for some much needed clothes with my dad. I think it was the first time my dad and I actually went shopping just the two of us and, although it was a bit awkward at first, it turned out my dad is a GREAT critic and a GREAT man to take along with you if you ever want a true opinion. He's patient, he's honest, and he actually looks for different sizes for you if whatever you picked doesn't fit. Yeah, he actually sits there and waits for you to try on half of what's in the store, and is always right by your dressing room door when you come out asking 'how does it look?'. Mom, you really scored on that one. Wow. And he won't tell you what you want to hear, but he'll be really honest. And yes guys, believe it or not, SOME women want honesty and not just what they want to hear. We're not ALL out to get you with trick questions like 'does this make my butt look fat?'.

So, moving along, my dad and I are shopping and I'm down to two shirts I really like, but I can only afford one. So while I'm pondering, my dad slips me a twenty and tells me that the second one is on him. *choke*. Yeah. Really. I mean mebby you saw that one coming, but I sure didn't at the time. I was so pleased and touched and greatful I almost forgot to take my change from the cashier. It was that special.

Walking back to the car, we go through the market (for you Ottawa residents, you know what I'm talking about...). The ByWard market in the summer is full of stalls selling useless crap that everyone buys anyway because um...I dunno, I guess you can find some cool stuff in there once in a while. Mexican wooden turtles with a bobble head, spiders made of wire and beads, dream catchers...and jewelry. I mean, lots of it. Rings, bracelets, chains, you name it, it's there. I don't really look anymore, but I sure did when I was 18. I mean, this is the Ali Baba cave of wonders to a youngster who doesn't have much cash! Most of the stall merchandise isn't very expensive compared to jewelry stores that were definitely off-limits to my very empty wallet.

So we're walking through the market and I'm trying to take all of it in while pretending not to look - because really I can't afford any of it. But then...then I see IT. The ring. The perfect, one of a kind, never seen before LIZARD ring. I stop dead in my tracks. My dad, oblivious to the charm and attraction of market treasures, keeps going. Then realizes I'm not there anymore, backtracks, and finds me handing a 20 to the stall attendant. For The Ring.

I look at him, stars in my eyes, delighted in my newfound shiny trinket. I think I must have said something like 'No tax, even!' or some insignificant statement that clearly was meant to say that I had found something priceless for next to nothing. I do however remember very clearly what my dad told me.

''You just paid $20 for that ring. I offered you a shirt you needed, not a ring you didn't need''.

Of course I was crestfallen. And so was he, understandably. I had jumped on something I thought I could never have, never afford. I had been denying myself just that kind of stuff for a long time, and I didn't even think twice about getting the ring. It was a find, a bargain, and it made me happy beyond belief. I was not realizing the impact of that buy, was not thinking about going back to No Name toilet paper for 2 months, had totally forgotten my dad's nice gesture.

He had brigded a gap. Offered me something I couldn't afford. Maybe started seeing me as the young responsible adult I was becoming, and wanted to encourage me in that way. He was witnessing the impulse no reasonning buy. I was cancelling all of his well placed toughts and action.

We stood there looking at each other for a while, me wavering between pleading and being sorry, him clearly being sorry and, in a sense, a bit sad I think. But I kept the ring. And we kept walking in silence.

We were silent for a while after that, except when it came to the ring. My dad endlessly brought it up at every occasion, and I rebeliously wore it every day, for every family dinner, for every occasion. Don't get me wrong, I LOVED that ring, and didn't wear it only to prove something. But as far as 18 year-olds go, there must have been some proving being done at some level, for sure.

Years later, I visited my parents in Africa. That's where they lived at the time - they moved there when I was in my early 20s. The gap was being bridged, slowly but surely, and I found myself learning to interact with my parents as an adult through those years we were apart. I was still wearing the ring every day by then, even though one of the lizard's foot had been ripped off and it was decidedly less shiny than it had been. Hell, I was wearing that ring 2 weeks ago....but we'll get back to that. All I mean to say about the trip to Africa is that I mentioned to my dad that our 'learning moment' must have been worth something after all, since I was still wearing the ring and very much liking it still. I must have mentioned something about a pretty good run for my money, and I think the incident was closed at that point. Like 10 years later. But that moment was a milestone. I understood it to mean that my dad had offered me the ring, or at least accepted that he had allowed me to get it, and that in the end was happy I had it.

In my mind, that ring became 'The Ring My Dad Gave Me'. My dad gave me a lot of lizard stuff in the years that followed, but that ring forever was the first and most important of them ever.

And now it might be lost.

I am beside myself with grief, anger and dread. This is the most important piece of jewelry I ever had, and ever will hold. If I ever get to hold it again.

I'll write more about my search for the ring, but in the meantime, please help me out. Use the comment form and shout any random space, so that I may look there if I haven't already, or double check if I have.

It isn't lost until I see it lost.

And I'm not about to let that happen.

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Ok, update, as an incentive, whoever shouts the place I actually find the ring (because I WILL) wins a free doodle. I'll draw whatever you like and ship it to you wherever you are. And I PROMISE to check out every single shout. Urhm....within a reasonable range from my house, obviously. The ring can't be where I haven't been.