I am not married nor engaged to be married; that’s neither a good nor a bad thing, it just is. You can tell my current state by looking at my fingers. I don’t have a ring. But there’s a lot you can’t tell just by the absence of a thing, just like many people don’t have cancer. It doesn’t mean they never did.
There are many people whose rings get dropped down the garbage disposal, or eaten by dogs, or tossed in a salad, or stolen off nightstands. The absence of a thing says nothing about whether it existed. Neither does it say anything about how much it was loved when it was there. It says nothing about how it was or was not cared for, only that it must be no longer. It must be.
The same is true for people- we know they can and do vanish. A person being gone says nothing, really. Just like the absence of an engagement ring says nothing much, tells nothing certain about you. For that I’m glad.
Because I had one once, for about thirty seconds- the longest thirty seconds of my life. But the absence of a thing cannot tell that story.