How do you honor your husband and not wear your wedding ring?
It’s a question I never thought I would have to ask.
Yet it’s one of the most common questions widows silently wrestle with.
When my husband, Quintin, unexpectedly passed away on April 9, 2024, I became part of a club nobody wants to join.
A widow.
A title I never wanted.
A title I certainly wasn’t prepared for.
And while there were countless decisions to make in the days, weeks, and months that followed, one decision seemed to linger longer than all the others.
What do I do with my wedding ring?
The Night My Husband Died
My journey with my wedding ring actually began the night Quintin passed away.
As I knelt beside his lifeless body, I desperately wanted answers.
I wanted to ask God why.
Why him?
Why now?
Why us?
Why our children?
I was angry.
Heartbroken.
Confused.
Completely shattered.
I wanted to demand answers from Heaven.
But kneeling there beside the love of my life, all I could do was lift my hands and give thanks.
Not because I understood.
Not because I agreed.
Not because I wasn’t devastated.
But because I couldn’t deny what a gift he had been.
A gift as a husband.
A gift as a father.
A gift as my best friend.
A gift that I had been blessed to love for nearly 25 years of marriage and 30 years together.
My heart was breaking while simultaneously thanking God for every year we were given.
Grief and gratitude occupied the same space.
Looking back now, I think that’s why my wedding ring became so complicated afterward.
Because it wasn’t just jewelry.
It was proof that he had been here.
Proof that our love story was real.
Proof that all those years actually happened.
Why I Kept Wearing My Wedding Ring
For nearly a year, I continued wearing my wedding ring.
At first, I couldn’t imagine taking it off.
But if I’m honest, there were other reasons too.
The ring made me feel safe.
A wedding ring creates a boundary.
People see it and assume someone is waiting for you at home.
As a woman navigating the world alone for the first time in decades, there was comfort in that.
The ring felt like armor.
A shield.
A small piece of the life I had lost.
Yet wearing it also created new challenges.
People would see the ring and ask about my husband.
“What does your husband do?”
“How long have you been married?”
Questions that seem innocent until your husband is no longer here to answer them.
Every question forced me to decide whether I had the emotional energy to explain my story.
Every question reminded me of what I had lost.
The Questions Nobody Sees
As time passed, I found myself wearing the ring some days and leaving it off on others.
There wasn’t a grand plan.
No announcement.
No timeline.
Just a grieving widow trying to figure out how to live in a reality she never wanted.
And while I was quietly wrestling through that process, people noticed.
For more than a year, messages rolled in.
“Why aren’t you wearing your ring?”
“Did you take your ring off?”
“What happened to your wedding ring?”
Some asked gently.
Others made assumptions.
Still others offered opinions.
Many people would tell me:
“Honor your husband and wear your ring.”
As if honoring Quintin was somehow attached to a piece of jewelry.
As if the depth of my love for him could be measured by what was or wasn’t on my finger.
The truth is, I wasn’t hiding anything.
I simply wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.
Because this wasn’t really about a ring.
It was about grief.
Identity.
Faith.
And learning how to trust God in a chapter I never wanted.
So I held that story close until now.
The Ring Became Something Different
As April 2025 approached, I realized something had shifted.
Not in my love for Quintin.
Not in my memories.
Not in my gratitude for the life we shared.
But in how I viewed the ring itself.
One of the biggest turning points came during my first trip after Quintin’s death.
For the first time, I left my wedding ring at home.
Not because I was ready.
Not because I wanted to.
Not because I had somehow “moved on.”
I left it because I was terrified of losing it.
God forbid something happened to me.
God forbid there was an accident.
God forbid my children had to walk through another unimaginable loss.
One thought kept running through my mind:
“What if my kids never receive this ring?”
For years I had viewed my wedding ring as a symbol of my marriage.
But now I saw something different.
I saw legacy.
I saw family history.
I saw a tangible reminder that their dad was here.
That our love story was real.
That a man named Quintin Conway loved their mom with everything he had.
And suddenly I wasn’t just thinking about Lily and Ella someday holding that ring.
I was thinking about Kale.
I was thinking about Fisher.
I was thinking about all four of our children.
About future spouses.
Future grandchildren.
Future generations.
About stories that would be told long after I am gone.
The ring was no longer just mine.
It belonged to our family’s story.
Every time I slipped my wedding ring onto my finger, I began sensing something in my spirit.
Not guilt.
Not pressure.
Just a gentle reminder.
“Lori, I am still here.”
Because while marriage was one of God’s greatest gifts to me, it was never meant to be my identity.
Marriage is for this earthly life.
My identity has always been found in Christ.
That truth was difficult to accept.
For decades I wasn’t just Lori.
I was Quintin’s wife.
Mrs. Conway.
His person.
And suddenly God was asking me to trust Him with an identity I never wanted.
A future I never chose.
A chapter I never would have written.
The more I prayed, journaled, worshipped, and processed my grief, the more I realized God wasn’t asking me to let go of Quintin.
He was asking me to trust Him.
Trust Him with my memories.
Trust Him with my future.
Trust Him with my identity.
Trust Him with what comes next.
Why I Started Wearing My Promise Ring Instead
Instead, I began wearing my promise ring.
The ring Quintin gave me before wedding bands.
Before mortgages.
Before children.
Before careers.
Before nearly 25 years of married life together.
Wearing that ring reminded me where our story began.
And for the first time, I stopped seeing my wedding ring as something I had to wear.
I started seeing it as something I was entrusted to protect.
An heirloom.
A treasure.
A legacy.
The Mrs. Box Ring Ceremony
Months later, God brought all of those emotions full circle.
I found myself attending the Never Alone Widows Retreat at Pursell Farms in Alabama.
Hundreds of widows.
Hundreds of stories.
Hundreds of broken hearts.
And yet there was hope everywhere.
Women learning how to breathe again.
Women learning how to trust God again.
Women learning how to walk through grief one day at a time.
During the retreat, each widow received a beautiful Mrs. Box.
Then came the ring ceremony.
An invitation.
Not a requirement.
Not pressure.
Simply an invitation.
When we were ready, we could place our wedding rings inside.
I remember holding that box and crying.
Because it wasn’t really about the ring.
It was about surrender.
Surrendering the identity I had known for decades.
Surrendering the fear that taking off my ring meant letting go of Quintin.
Surrendering the belief that my love for him was somehow attached to a piece of jewelry.
Trusting that honoring my husband and trusting God with my future could both be true.
And there, surrounded by women who understood this unique grief, I placed my wedding ring inside the box.
Not because I stopped loving him.
Not because I was moving on.
Not because our story ended.
But because God had already done a work in my heart.
Truthfully, I had taken my wedding ring off for the final time in April of 2025.
The ceremony wasn’t the moment I removed it.
The ceremony was the moment I surrendered it.
The Gift of Widow Sisters
One of the greatest gifts from that retreat wasn’t the box.
It was the women.
Women who understood.
Women who didn’t need explanations.
Women who knew exactly why a ring could feel so heavy.
Women who knew grief and gratitude can coexist.
Women who reminded me I wasn’t alone.
This retreat was the start of my healing and not moving on rather moving through my grief and giving myself permission and ultimately choosing for grief and gratitude which leads to joy to co-exist.
There Are Times Your Soul Needs To Praise
As I placed my ring inside that Mrs. Box, I wasn’t saying goodbye.
I had already said thank you.
The night Quintin died, I thanked God for the gift of his life.
This moment felt like thanking God again.
Thank You for the marriage.
Thank You for the memories.
Thank You for the laughter.
Thank You for the children.
Thank You for the love story.
And thank You, Lord, for carrying me into a future I never would have chosen.
A Ring Doesn’t Determine Love
The truth is this:
The ring came off.
But the love remained.
The memories remained.
The lessons remained.
The legacy remained.
The children remained.
And God remained too.
Taking off my wedding ring didn’t mean I loved Quintin less.
It didn’t mean I forgot him.
It didn’t mean I was moving on.
It meant I was trusting God.
Trusting Him with my grief.
Trusting Him with my identity.
Trusting Him with whatever comes next.
If You’re a Widow Reading This
Maybe you’re wondering whether it’s time.
Maybe you’re feeling guilty.
Maybe you’re afraid of what people will think.
Maybe you’re afraid of what it means.
Let me gently remind you:
There is no widow rulebook.
There is no timeline.
There is no right or wrong answer.
Some widows wear their rings forever.
Some take them off after months.
Others after years.
The ring is simply a symbol.
The love remains.
Always.
And if you’re walking through grief today, let this be your reminder:
There are times when your mind simply cannot process reality.
The questions are too big.
The pain is too deep.
The circumstances make no sense.
In those moments, your soul needs to praise God.
Not because everything is okay.
Not because you understand.
Not because you’ve healed.
But because worship reminds your heart of what is true when your circumstances make no sense.
So worship your way through it.
Praise your way through it.
Sing through the tears.
Sing through the anger.
Sing through the heartbreak.
Sing until your soul remembers who God is.
Sing until hope returns.
Sing until you can breathe again.
Sing until you are healed.
Because healing doesn’t come from a ring.
Healing comes from the One who never leaves.
And even now, in the chapter I never wanted, He is still here.
❤️🩹
If you are a widow please comment below and let me know what you have decided to do with your wedding ring? There is not one right way for healing, so please feel free to be raw and vulnerable here you are welcome. Also, if you are looking for resources please visit HERE- NEVER ALONE WIDOWS to get connected on taking a step toward your grief healing journey!
I also stopped wearing it at about a year. We were married over 38 years and high school sweethearts. Charlie’s death completed the vows we said in church and before God. Our love will exist on this earth as long as I am here and our legacy will live on through our children and grandchildren. I replaced the diamond in my engagement ring with a black sapphire, so I still wear it just not as a wedding set. The diamond is in a pendant that I occasionally wear. Every widow should be allowed to grieve in their own way – no pressure. You didn’t owe anyone an explanation, but it’s nice that you did.
Sue,
Thank you for sharing your story.
I love what you said about Charlie completing the vows you made before God. That perspective is so beautiful and faith-filled. Thirty-eight years together, from high school sweethearts to building a family and legacy together, is such a gift.
I also love the way you’ve honored your marriage while creating something new with your rings. Replacing the diamond with a black sapphire and turning the diamond into a pendant is such a meaningful way to carry those memories forward.
And I couldn’t agree more—every widow should be allowed to grieve in her own way without pressure or expectations from others.
Thank you for your wisdom and encouragement. ❤️
— Lori
My beloved Scott has been gone a little over 4 years. We were together 47 years married 46. We were just 16 and 19 when met. He passed away quickly in the middle of night from a heart attack. No one saw it coming and was a shock. The morning he passed I took his ring out of my jewelry box and put it on my ring with my wedding ring. He only wore it for the first 3 months and after twice getting his hand stuck in a engine took it off. It reminds on my finger and as right now that is where they will both stay.
I’m happy for you and decision. God bless you.
Debra,
My heart aches reading your story. Forty-seven years together and then losing Scott so suddenly in the middle of the night is unimaginable.
What struck me most was your description of placing his ring with yours. There is something so meaningful about those symbols of a life built together.
I think that’s one of the things this conversation has taught me—there isn’t one right answer. Some of us wear them, some of us don’t, and some of us find new ways to carry them. None of those choices diminish the love we shared.
Thank you for sharing a piece of your story and for your kind words regarding my decision. They mean so much. ❤️
— Lori
My husband died February 15, 2026. I can’t imagine taking my wedding ring off. We were 3 months short of our 27 wedding anniversary. I am thankful for what you shared.
I recently applied for a never alone widows retreat.
RickiLea,
First, I am so sorry for your loss. February 15, 2026 is still so very recent, and my heart hurts for you.
I can completely understand why taking off your wedding ring feels unimaginable right now. There was a time when I couldn’t imagine it either. The truth is, none of us knows what tomorrow will look like, and we don’t need to.
I love that you mentioned the Never Alone Widows retreat. That retreat was such a blessing to me because it reminded me that there are other women walking this road who truly understand.
Thank you for sharing your heart. Give yourself permission to take this journey one day at a time. There is no timeline and there are no widow rules. ❤️
— Lori
My husband of 42 yrs passed away 21 months ago, after a 3 yr struggle with cancer. The night he passed I took his wedding band off his hand and put it on my left hand, middle finger, next to my wedding rings and never took them off. Then later, I, too, wondered when I should take my wedding rings off. My problem was that seeing them made me sad. They were a constant reminder of what I no longer had – a marriage. But when I looked at his wedding band on my middle finger I saw the love he had for me and his commitment to me and our marriage. Oddly enough, 9 months after his death, I got a rash under my rings that caused me to take them off. I haven’t put them back on since but I wear his band on my middle finger all the time and feel great joy and comfort when I look at it.
Kim,
Thank you for sharing your story.
What stood out to me was the way your husband’s ring became something entirely different for you after his passing. While your wedding rings reminded you of what had changed, his ring became a reminder of the love that still remains. There is something incredibly beautiful about that.
I also couldn’t help but smile reading about the rash that forced you to remove your rings. Sometimes life seems to make decisions for us that our hearts aren’t quite ready to make on their own.
I love that his band now brings you joy and comfort. What a beautiful reminder that while our marriages may have changed here on earth, the love we shared continues to shape us every day.
Thank you for sharing such a meaningful part of your journey. ❤️
— Lori
I am still wearing mine. My beloved Jeff passed two years ago. We were married 47 years. We were best friends. We were so in love.
This grief, this pain, has been almost unbearable. But God, with grace only he can give, has sustained me.
Thank you for your ministry. I understand. Each widow is unique in her journey. And our Father gets us. And he leads us and loves us. Take good care.
Andrea,
Thank you for this beautiful comment.
“Best friends.” I think those two words capture so much of what we grieve when we lose our spouse. We aren’t only grieving a husband—we’re grieving our person, our confidant, the one who knew us better than anyone else.
Forty-seven years together is a beautiful love story, and I can feel the depth of that love in your words.
I also love your reminder that each widow’s journey is unique. There is no one-size-fits-all approach to grief, healing, or even something as simple as a wedding ring.
Thank you for your encouragement and for pointing us all back to God’s sustaining grace. I couldn’t have made it this far without it.
❤️ Lori
So many of your beautiful understanding words give me insight. But, we are so very different. You are young & vibrant & have so much future to enjoy, anticipate, & create. I am 75 years old & my future lifespan is predicted, per statistics, to be only 12 short years. Given the grief I bear, that may be shortened, which is fine by me. In the meantime, not only did I lose the absolute love of my life & truly a prince of a husband; but, his entire family exiled me. Jim’s ring is a piece of the security that he give to me as my husband; symbolic of an unmeasurable love that he showed every single day with me. I am merely broken & doing my level best to work thru the rest of my existence.
Lovelle,
Thank you so much for your kind words.
One thing that has become so clear through these conversations is that while every widow’s story is different, so many of the emotions are shared. The guilt, the questions, the uncertainty, and even the hope—we often think we’re the only ones feeling them until someone else puts them into words.
Thank you for being part of this community and for sharing your heart. Your story matters, and your voice is helping other women feel less alone too.
❤️ Lori
So many of your beautiful understanding words give me insight. But, we are so very different. You are young & vibrant & have so much future to enjoy, anticipate, & create. I am 75 years old & my future lifespan is predicted, per statistics, to be only 12 short years. Given the grief I bear, that may be shortened, which is fine by me. I the meantime, not only did I lose the absolute love of my life & truly a prince of a husband; but, his entire family exiled me. Jim’s ring is a piece of the security that he give to me as my husband; symbolic of an unmeasurable love that he showed every single day with me. I am merely broken & doing my level best to work thru the rest of my existence.
My husband passed away in Nov of 2021 and I wore my ring for at least 2 years then I got it cleaned and some of the little diamonds fixed and I haven’t put it back on. For now it’s in a safe place.
Twila,
Thank you for sharing your story.
I think it’s beautiful that after having your ring cleaned and repaired, you gave yourself permission not to put it back on right away. Sometimes our hearts know we’re ready for a different season before we can fully explain why.
I love that you said, “For now it’s in a safe place.” I think that’s such a gentle way of approaching grief. Not forcing a permanent decision, just honoring where you are today.
Thank you for reminding us all that it’s okay to take these decisions one step at a time. ❤️
— Lori
My husband died Feb of 2025 after a short 4 month battle with cancer. We were married 25 years together 27. I’m like you were, sometimes I wear it and sometimes I don’t. I’ve been thinking I want to put it away in my safe. Thank you for your blog. Grief is so strange and hard.
Thank you so much for this! I lost my amazing husband Wayne on 4/1/25, after a year long battle with a rare form of Leukemia. I was a single mom for 11 1/2 yrs and got the privilege of being married to him for 10 yrs. we actually celebrated our 10th anniversary in the hospital about 11 days before he passed.
This blog hit on everything I have been wrestling with! Oh my gosh! All the words that run around in my head when I think about taking it off. i cannot thank you enough. I wish I had one of those Mrs. boxes!
Thank you so much!
Jodi,
Your comment touched my heart. ❤️
Celebrating your 10th anniversary in the hospital just days before Wayne passed is both beautiful and heartbreaking. What a testament to the love you shared and the commitment you had to one another through every season.
I smiled when you said this blog put words to everything you’ve been wrestling with because that’s exactly why I felt called to write it. So many of us carry these thoughts quietly, wondering if anyone else understands.
Please know that whatever decision you make about your ring, it doesn’t change the love you have for Wayne or the life you built together. Love isn’t measured by what is on our finger.
Thank you for sharing your story and for reminding all of us that we’re not alone in these thoughts. Sending you so much love. ❤️
— Lori
My ring is put way. The love will always be there. My husband passed away October 11, 2021. He died from complications after a surgery. Sepsis. He always wore his ring. He would not take it off even for his job. He had to take it off for his surgeries and I kept it safe for him. I buried his ring with him. I knew how much it meant to him. He was a good man, a great husband and a good parent. Forever missed. Forever loved. We would have celebrated our 25th anniversary the month following his passing.
Mary,
Your comment touched my heart.
The way you described burying his ring with him because you knew how much it meant to him is such a beautiful act of love. It’s clear that ring wasn’t just jewelry—it was part of his story and your story together.
I also love what you said: “My ring is put away. The love will always be there.” I think that captures exactly what so many widows struggle to put into words. The ring may change places, but the love never does.
Forever loved. Forever missed. What a beautiful tribute to a man who was clearly cherished.
Thank you for sharing his story with us. ❤️
— Lori
I never thought about how my ring makes me feel safe . I’ll would have been married 40 years in Aug
New chapter , I really don’t know how to turn the page on life . Being single was not a choice for me . It’s was taken..
Debra,
Your comment really made me stop and think.
When you mentioned that your ring makes you feel safe, I realized how many of us may be carrying that same feeling without even recognizing it. For years, that ring represented partnership, commitment, and knowing someone was walking through life beside us.
And you’re right—being single again wasn’t a choice many of us made. It was chosen for us.
I think that’s one of the hardest parts of grief. Not only losing the person we love, but losing the future we thought we were still building together.
Thank you for putting words to something I think many widows feel but struggle to express.
Sending you a hug. ❤️
— Lori
My husband will be gone 3 years in sept. I also took my ring off after a little over a year of his passing. I also am keeping mine for my daughter and don’t want anything to happen to it! Love and prayers!
Took mine wedding bands off after 39 yrs of marriage….and Derek graduating to heaven on Jan 14 2024 ..this year 2026 ..it’s was tough
Angelica,
Thirty-nine years of marriage is such a beautiful love story.
I smiled through tears when I read, “Derek graduated to heaven.” What a beautiful way to describe it. Even knowing where our loved ones are doesn’t make the separation easy, does it?
Two years is still such a tender season in this journey, and I completely understand when you say taking your bands off was tough.
Thank you for sharing your heart and reminding us all that every widow reaches these milestones in her own time.
❤️ Lori
🌹 Thank you so much for sharing your heart with us, Lori.
I’ve often watched and wondered about your decision regarding your wedding ring and I found your explanation truly exquisite.
As of today my dear husband has been gone 807 days.
We were friends for 42 years, married almost 22 years, together 28.
For now, I’ll continue to wear my rings. They bring me comfort and yes, help me feel safe. My husband’s career was in law enforcement so I lived life unafraid. That said, I’ve always known that God “has my six.” Today, I know He still does. He is my greatest comfort. Without Him I am nothing.
Again, thank you for sharing your journey with us, Lori.
May God bless you and yours always and in all ways.
💫❤️✝️❤️💫
Linda,
Thank you so much for your kind words.
I have to admit, I knew people noticed whether I was wearing my ring or not, but I never imagined how many women were quietly wrestling with the exact same questions and emotions.
The truth is, there wasn’t one moment or one reason. It was a journey, and even then it felt complicated. That’s why I wanted to share it honestly.
Thank you for reading, for understanding, and for being part of this conversation. The vulnerability and wisdom shared by women in these comments has been such a gift to me.
❤️ Lori
I am still wearing mine and I wear his around my neck. Some Days it feels heavy, others it gives me comfort. My John has only been gone from this world for 7 months after 24 1/2 years of marriage. I haven’t a clue when I will be ready to take it off. I love the idea of the Box. My first husband, father of my children died 4 years ago. I wish I had that box to put it in to leave to my children. It would mean so much to them. Thank you for sharing.
I also wear my ring and have my husband’s around my neck hanging on a heart. He passed away in June of 2024.
Vicki,
Thank you for sharing that. I love the image of carrying your husband’s ring close to your heart on a necklace. What a beautiful reminder that while the ring may change places, the love never does.
One thing I’ve learned through all of these conversations is how personal this decision is for each widow. There is no right way and no wrong way—only the way that brings peace to your heart.
Thank you for being willing to share your story and encourage others who may be wrestling with the same decision.
❤️ Lori
Two years later & I’m still wearing mine without any intention of taking it off. But I do agree with your why & your decision. It does carry a different weight now & people assuming I’m still married. Maybe someday I’ll place it somewhere safe. But for now it will stay on my finger that my husband placed it on almost 27 years ago. Thank you for always sharing your heart. 💛