I just have to stop searching for the ring

Earlier this week, my engagement ended. More than five years of being engaged. More than eight years in a relationship. Over.

I'm sad. The hardest part is that I developed a habit of using my left thumb to make sure the ring was still on my finger. I was so worried when I first started wearing it that I would lose it; I'd flick my thumb across it to make sure it hadn't slipped off. For more than five years, that's how I reminded myself if I had put it on after my shower or after cooking.

I also fiddled with it when standing around, pulling it on and off my ring finger with my right hand. I find my right hand slipping over the left, and not finding it there.

That's when I know it's over. When I search for the ring and I don't find it.

It hasn't really sunk in; I'm looking for a new apartment. I'm looking for ways to move forward with my life.

He's leaving the house tomorrow for three weeks. While he's up visiting relatives, he's going to have our terminally ill dog euthanized. She's really deteriorated and it's the right decision.

Even in the midst of all of this, I just have to stop searching for the ring.