The Phantom Ring

"This ring is an outward symbol of an inward commitment."
I have had four wedding bands of note: the original, slim gold band with an inscription that now seems puerile; a Tiffany Atlas for everyday from back in the roaring 90's; a handmade Tibetan silver wide band with floral engravings and an embedded speck of tourmaline, from my age of enlightenment; and the big one - the one I was going to leave to my daughter.
I figured she could put it on a chain and wear it as a pendant, as our fingers are three sizes apart.
The big ring was designed by me and crafted by a local jeweler.  It sports 25 diamonds, some small, some large. One diamond for each year of marriage.  I started it at 15 years, with diamonds from my mother's original wedding band, a couple of diamonds from earrings he had given me early on, and some from the jeweler.
It's white gold, hefty and buff.  Very subtle.  The diamonds were originally scattered on the band, but now are crowded, encrusted.
Every time I brought it in to add more stones, my friendly neighborhood jeweler would extoll its value. So many diamonds.
I wore that fucking ring maybe twice a year.
That fucking ring will now be sold and melted like the ring falling into the fire of Mount Doom with Gollum.
I will take the proceeds and buy a life.
I have stopped wearing any of my bands.  I feel like a wounded soldier with a phantom limb.  Something is missing.  In the morning I automatically reach for a band and then remember, there is no outward symbol because there is no inward commitment.