Some things just seem “meant to be.”
Sometimes we seek clarification; sometimes we seek answers. We seek direction when we are lost; we seek purpose and meaning. We seek love.
And sometimes we seek the things we lose, the things that are most precious to us ….
On Saturday night, a week ago, Jess and I returned from a hard day of recreation and exercise in the Gatineaus. I spent 3.5 hours cross-country skiing during which time I traveled 33 km in the cold, -14ºC, weather. We returned home, invigorated and tired and we knew our metabolisms would soon kick in and demand paleolithic food … energy, protein, and something big to fill the holes. “How about an early date-night dinner?” I suggested. “Steak and Caesar salad?”
After a rejuvenating bath of Epsom salts, we got dressed in our comfy clothes and I set out to make dinner. I cleared off the 15cm of snow from the day before from the upper part of the deck, cleared the snow and ice from the BBQ, and gently peeled the BBQ cover from the stainless steel to which it had found frozen purchase, and left it tethered on the left edge of the cart to which is was totally frozen. It is, simply, “what you have to do” if you want to eat BBQ in Ottawa in February … and as a committed four-season grillman, I simply do what I have to do. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t relish setting up the grill at minus 15 and doing steaks in the icy dark, but love and hunger is a powerful motivator. And 15 minutes later, the grill was ready, and after a high-heat 3 minutes per side, the 6 ounce fillets came off a perfect medium-rare and our bodies breathed sighs of relief as the energy flowed back into our bodies.
Finished, we took a break from our movie and I went back outdoors to re-cover the BBQ in anticipation of the 20-30 cm of snow that was supposed to start Sunday afternoon. I jostled the cover back in place and then, following my boy scout instincts and thinking the ice would have thawed a bit from the heat of the BBQ, I grabbed a piece of the ice that was firmly frozen on the left side of the cover which had made it impossible to fully remove earlier. I peeled it off in one piece and threw it over the edge. My hands, wet and cold with the ice upon them, I swung to the ground to flick the water from my frozen fingers.
I could feel it happen. I felt it loosen and tried to curl my finger even as my hand was in full motion to flick, but the weight and force was too much and all I could hear was a single, dull …
“Thud.”
Then nothing. Not another sound. Nothing.
I looked at my left hand to confirm.
My wedding ring placed there almost 6 months to the day earlier, was gone.
The weight of the platinum, the ice coldness shrinking my fingers, and the dehydration of the exercise making them even smaller, the ring really didn’t stand a chance, and with a single bound, it disappeared into the fresh snow and sunk from sight. Where, I knew not. With no trailing sound, I had no idea what direction it had bounced.
I went and got the flashlight and I searched for any imperfection in the soft blanket of snow. I scanned for meters in all directions and found only half a dozen spots, mostly from where I’d previous cleared the snow. I dug my hands into each hole and came up empty and cold. Over and over again I dipped and pulled, like a spring robin searching the ground for precious food, and each time, I stood up still starving. I walked the whole deck, I peered under the BBQ, over the edges; everywhere, nothing. I got a snow shovel and started throwing all the snow of the deck into the air, waiting for the heaviness of the ring to fall fast from the clouds of snow as Jess held the flashlight for me. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
I stood and stared, dejected and lost, over the expanse of the deck and the snow. It was lost out there … somewhere.
Worse, there was more snow coming the next day and so my only hope was going to be spring and hoping I — not a crow or a curious neighbour — would find it laying there for my finger again. And so I sat back in quiet, pained acceptance, prepared to phone the insurance company on Monday morning to report it lost yet not make a full claim until spring when I verified I wouldn’t be able to find it.
And so the snow came on Sunday and through most of Monday. Almost 30 cm fell. More came on Tuesday, Valentine’s night. More again on Wednesday. Probably 18-inches before it was all done. By the time the snow finished, this is what we saw out of back deck. I couldn’t tell where the ground ended and the deck started and there was almost 3 feet of snow on the deck now.
And at the same time, I started coming down with a cold and I just looked outside each day and sighed but eyeing the forecast which increasingly was getting warmer … suddenly warmer, with highs of near 8ºC and 6ºC forecast for Saturday and Sunday.
On Saturday, I went onto the deck and cleared snow from the BBQ landing and cut a path around the steps so that I could get to the window wells and dig them out in anticipation of the big melt that would soon be coming. Exhausted, still fighting my cold, I came back inside. Worked hard at relaxing to gain some strength before we went out Saturday night to hear Harry Manx play at the National Arts Centre.
And so it was, Sunday morning, the day before Family Day here in Ontario, after we shared our ritual coffee, I stared out through the patio doors at the melting and retreating snow and said wishfully to Jess, “You know, I just keep thinking, I’m going to look out there and see my ring; just sitting there, through the melting snow.”
Not really expecting to see anything, still, I went outside, walked to the edge of the landing, scanned the surface of the snow and saw in fact, nothing, nothing except the wasting of our snowmen. I turned back to the house and took a few steps to the door, and I looked back again, but down this time. Down at the path I had cleared the day before and which had retreated another few inches with yesterday’s thaw.
I looked down and to the bottom left, half emerging in the light of the melting crystals, there it was. My wedding ring.
I called Jess and said, “Come here. Look.” And I pointed “Down there ….”
“Some things are just meant to be,” she smiled and said.
Hand in Hand. Hand on Heart. Heart in Heart … Forever in Yours.
All text and photography © Dale Schierbeck
See more of others’ submissions to the Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge on “Against the Odds.”
I need to know if you ever tried supplements from Canine Kidney Health or any others? I have a 14 yr old cocker spaniel in renal failure stage 3. The vet told me I should accept the inevitable and they couldn’t do surgery on his teeth because of his levels. He then stayed in their hospital for 3 days for IV treatment. I brought him home & when due date for surgery…the surgeon told me we couldn’t do surgery. I want to do anything I can! I have already started feeding him fresh veggies with cooked turkey & chicken. He hates the food the vet gives that is Royal Canin for renal failure. I’m afraid to feed him raw meats. I like your recipes for food & I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Please help me with any information you can. I will do anything to help my little Harley live longer & happier & healthier & without pain. Please help me & little Harley!
Hi Robin — My heart breaks for your story and for what you’re going through. It’s all too familiar. I know you posted your question here, but there are many others who have posted comments along with the actual recipe and I think you’ll see from them that you’re far from being alone … though I know it feels like it right now. Sadly, Robin, I have no cures to offer. Some here have seen small “miracles,” extra time, even an improvement of blood work and organ function — I myself did with Ben — but even at that, we each and our canine loves have limited runway. My advice is to keep fighting and keeping doing your very best and live and celebrate each special day you have with Harley. I hope days become weeks and months and even a year … but prepare yourself as well. I hope the recipe and supplements listed therein provide you a measure of an answer and some control as you fight this disease with insidious symptoms. I can’t speak to other products on the market, though, as I say, others in the comments have identified supplements and tweaks that have worked for them. For each, it is fundamentally a personal battle … but know that you’re not alone. Cherish your cuddles and licks.
Glad to hear your wedding ring story..I’m a firm believer that something told you that you would find it this time…and alas….you did. So happy for you. Another one is just not the same as we romantics believe anyway lol. I went out myself last night to celebrate my birthday and coincidence has it that a guy there, new to the area saw my husbands hoodie with the Harley logo on the back and the origin of that shirt as well…”Toys for Big Boys” which unless you’re a rider, you probably wouldn’t recognize however in this instance, it drew an amazing response from the new guy who was from that place of origin, which was Moncton, N.B. It was like old home week as the guy…Terry…and I had chats about people we BOTH knew as that is my hometown as well. Neat little story and as I always say…”you can run but you just can’t hide!”
I also wanted to thank you Dale for the recipe for dogs with renal failure. My Panda was diagnosed in November. She’s very fussy with her food BUT I made it and to my amazement…she absolulutely loves it!! I’ll be making more today with the pork and I anxiously await the princesses approval on this one as well.
Your story of Ben was a heart wrenching one for me as it of course gives me pause to realize that the day will come before too long that I too will face that heartbreak that you faced with your Ben, but your recipe that you shared gives me hope that I may have a bit more time now with her than I may have had otherwise. THANK YOU,THANK YOU THANK YOU Dale….
Marilyn
Thank you, Marilyn, for such kind and heartfelt comments. I don’t think I ever stopped hoping, but I sure wasn’t hopeful it would come true. Still, as you say, it is our great loves in life, for friends and fur, that develop our romanticism and teach us the value of what is truly most precious. While my ring means a world to me, it is but an object and a symbol of what I carry in my heart and hold for the woman I love … a lesson gifted to me through the love and loss of Ben. Best of luck with the recipe and I hope it brings you your own miracle. Thank you again for the gift of your kind words. ~ Dale
Thank you for sharing that.
My pleasure — it was fun to recount. 🙂
As I was reading this, I was positive the result would be what it was… (why write the post otherwise?) So very happy you found it, Dale! Definitely meant to be!!
Yes, the photo was a bit of a “spoiler” for all the tension I contrived. Very happy it ended as it did because my own personal the tension was very real. 🙂
The title too ?.
And by the way, congrats on your marriage! ??
Thank you. I continue to smile from ear to ear myself. 🙂
Poetic prose that is as much a metaphor as it is a chronicle. Homer’s odessey, at home; Dante’s muse, constant in the cold. And it made me smile!
You are very kind with your words, John. Thank you deeply. A smile is rich payment enough. In the sentiment of Odysseus, may I now rest peacefully at home now that the odyssey is at an end.
A great story. You had me swept up in the search your ring. Congratulations on finding it.
Ω
Thank you Allan. It makes me smile to have been able to share the thrill of the find with you all. Peace to you as well.
Gosh you were so lucky, my husband lost his, he thinks in the park when he took the dogs out. He went back there with a metal detector too, but didn’t find it. He’s got another one now, but it’s not the one we had blessed at the altar, so not the same! xxx
Thanks Caroliss. I was indeed lucky!! I had little hope for the ending I had …. Most such tales don’t end so fortunately. Sorry for you and your husband. ?
I knew it would turn up – just not so soon! It wanted to find its way back to you quickly! That ring is meant to be on that finger of yours – right on your heart-line, forever. <3
… a path that connects me to you. 🙂