I Sold My Wedding Ring

This blog post is going to be different. I am going to tell you some stories and share my feelings. The date this will post is the day before the anniversary of Steven's death. Currently, I am on the start of week three of a 24 day vacation to Southeast Asia. This trip is and was intentionally planned. Curated even. This is my 3rd widowversary. The 3rd year I am walking this earth without my person. Without the love of my life.

Year one, I went to Mexico. I planned a stay at an all inclusive resort. Margaritaville. With the vibrant colors and Jimmy Buffet energy, how could I be sad? Well, it was a slight disaster. I have been a vegetarian since 2011 and that resort had 2 things for me to eat. Veggie Fajitas and chips and salsa. Over and over again. Aside from the food, there was no beach and no ocean access. The water was roped off with no sand. I was pretty miserable and as the death date was approaching, I was getting more anxious being there.

So, I pivoted. I found a different resort about 45 minutes away called Palmaïa, the House of AÏA in Cancun Mexico and I left for it the next morning. Once I stepped onto that resort, I knew I was exactly where I was supposed to be. The sprawling rainforest, caves, cenotes, and spiritually inspired architecture. I was at peace. I got body and energy work done by a reiki healer, I sat in meditation circles, I let the waves of the ocean sweep over my aching heart. I didn't leave Palmaïa healed, but I left freer. Freer than I had felt since the day Steven died.

Year Two: Celebrating Me

My second widowversary was a completely different flavor. I stayed in. I had moved to Vegas a few months prior to the date and I didn't want to do a big trip but I decided that doing something for me on the date of Steven's death annually would become a tradition. In therapy, this is called pre-coping. You mentally and emotionally prepare for something in advance so when it comes, it doesn't hit you like a Mack truck. Instead, it feels more like a fender bender.

I also wanted to celebrate me. I know that may sound off, celebrating yourself on the date of your husband's death? But for me, that answer is yes. I still have a life. I still am alive. I still get to walk this earth. I am still breathing. I still have things I get to do. I still have love in my heart. All of that is worthy of celebration. And celebrate I did.

Year two, I booked a suite at the Venetian. 1,400 sq ft. Panoramic views, a living room, dining room, a bathroom bigger than my bedroom. It was over the top—and I loved it! I had my girls come over and help me get ready. I bought an evening gown. Emerald green, short in the front with a 3 ft train in the back, glittering and sexy as hell. My friend Danielle did my hair and makeup while my friend Kiara was my hype woman. We did a little photoshoot before leaving the room and they escorted me down to the restaurant. I turned heads as I was strutting, and man, did I feel good. Not only physically, but the emotional reclamation that I got on deciding how I choose to honor my husband and spend that day was liberating. I had a fabulous dinner by myself, soaking in the atmosphere of the bustling restaurant. And then, I ended the night with a different kind of nightcap—a hooker.

I can be a grieving widow during the day and a sexual being who wants to orgasm at night. Neither are wrong and neither negate the other.

I had hired an escort for the first time a few weeks earlier that May on Memorial Day. I had always had a fantasy of a happy ending massage and unfortunately, Steven never fulfilled that fantasy. It's actually something I was pretty resentful about while he was alive and still after his death. We explored his fantasies but we never got to mine. I asked many times, and eventually, I conceded. It made my sexual needs feel inferior and unimportant.

I had had enough of not getting exactly what I wanted sexually so I figured the best way to do that was to make it transactional. My first encounter with my escort was absolutely sensational. That massage had the happiest of endings. The decision to ask him to come to my hotel room on my 2nd widowversary was an easy one. I warned him prior about what the date was, what it meant to me, and that I may only want some affection and cuddling. He said we can go at whatever pace I feel comfortable.

The cuddling didn't last too long before his desire was evident, as was mine. We had FANTASTIC sex and then laid wrapped in the sheets and each other talking for hours. It felt magical. It helped me accept the notion that two things can be true. I can be a grieving widow during the day and a sexual being who wants to orgasm at night. Neither are wrong and neither negate the other.

There is so much emphasis on what a widow does sexually after the death of a spouse. Too soon and she never loved him. Wait forever and she's actually more loyal. But for a man, the story is different. He starts dating at 3 months and he is "healing" meanwhile for a woman, she would be a whore. The double standards for men and women extend beyond the grave.

The reality is, there is no timeline. There is no right or wrong answer. I had to accept the notion that people will have opinions probably forever on how I act romantically and sexually with my permanent residency in widowville. But guess what? It truly doesn't fucking matter. The happiest I have been on my healing journey, are the times when I ignore what "they" think.

Year Three: The Ring

And here I am, on year three. Sitting on a beach in Bali, Indonesia. I sold my wedding ring to be on this trip. Yep, you read that right. My 2.01 carat cushion cut hand crafted and designed by me, engagement ring. I bought first class tickets for this trip. I figured, if I was going to be flying on my husband's death anniversary, I better be comfortable at least!

Steven and I were planning to have children right after the bodybuilding competition he died trying to compete in. We were going to trade in the dumbbells for diapers. Unfortunately, that never happened. I have had to grieve and accept over and over that my future will be childless and at this time, I am 100% okay with this decision, albeit forced, still okay. I knew that ring would sit in a box in my jewelry stand with no one to inherit it. That's when I decided I would use the money from its sale to fund this trip that I will remember for a lifetime as opposed to holding on to a tangible object that can't come with me when I die.

Although I have seen the most incredible cities, temples, and markets. This trip hasn't been close to perfect. From getting stung by a sea urchin on an island in Thailand, to getting ripped off by a taxi driver in Cambodia, to dropping my phone in the ocean in Vietnam. It's been a wild ride of fun, adventure, and the literal definition of why I am here. LIFE. Someone on this trip said, life is what happens while you're busy living. Isn't that the truth?! What a privilege it is that I get to have these experiences. Even negative ones, like when the scooter rental place tried to say I crashed their scooter and extort me for some extra money. L-I-V-I-N man. I am really doing it.

What Each Year Taught Me

Each year that I have celebrated life while honoring death, I have learned something so valuable about myself. Year one was following my heart to allow myself to feel free. Year two was following my desire to allow myself to be sexual. Year three is realizing that nothing is perfect. Planned down to the tee things can still go wrong. You can't control life, it must simply be lived, and that's the thrill of it.

I am so honored to be able to have such fantastic adventures. I am so happy to be able to wake up every morning and move about my day. I am so thankful that I still get to live this life. Death has taught me more about living than life ever has. The way I view the world has shifted. What holds my attention or dismisses it is on a completely different threshold than before. I seek out every opportunity I can to make the best of every day.

While the ocean hums in the background and my fingers clack on this keyboard, I hope you can take a piece of my story and live your life just a little bit fuller because you never know what day will be your last.

Thank you for reading this.

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With love,
Ashley