This is one of the items in it.
It's the ring from the condom I used the first time Dee and I made love in the autumn of '82. When I got home that night after we did it on her dorm bed - even then I knew that I'd just experienced something that would shape and change the course of the rest of my life. I carefully trimmed and then laminated the ring, and put it tenderly into the box. Sure, it's weird that I kept it. Maybe even somewhat disgusting. But it's a treasure to me as sure as the white gold band I wear on my hand because of what it symbolizes. It reminds me in a tangible way that when Dee and I took off our clothes that night and gave to each other our bodies, we exchanged parts of our souls as well. We hadn't spoken of marriage yet, but we didn't need to. Each of us knew when we were joined together that we'd found the missing pieces of ourselves in the other - the missing pieces for which we'd searched all our lives in order to feel complete.
If one day they ornament my bier with symbols of my life, I wouldn't mind at all if this ring were among the tokens of my personhood. It marks the biggest rite of passage of my entire life - the day on which I first knew love in its deepest, most consuming form, and knew with all my heart that if I didn't keep it I would never feel complete again.
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