When my marriage ended, I asked for, and received, all the rings. Several years later, gave a particularly precious one to my partner, who promptly lost it, within a week. Made for one particular finger. Otherwise cursed. Wedding rings to be given to a jeweler, with no hex of commerce, to be melted down and reformatted into whatever. Some sort of exorcism, or something decidedly more minor. Destroy the form, since the history otherwise never leaves.
At one university, when a full-time professor with regular office hours, had a student in her late 30s–roughly my age at the time–come to my office. Didn’t talk about the course. Instead, talked about her husband and son. Lots of silence. She was from Eastern Europe. Looked at a non-wedding finger. Beautiful silver ring, with large, thoughtful diamond. Everything beautiful, but dulled. Asked her about the ring.
Her response: “Must have belonged to some Jew”. Matter-of-fact; no emotion. A living example of where the jewellery went, during World War II, before death and crematorium.
Ring likely given in love, savagely removed, to find its way to an apparent successor to the perpetrators, in spirit or otherwise.
In terms of whatever connection wasn’t happening.
What kind of curse…