On this day.
Four years ago.
We became man and wife.
I’ve cried hard many a day’s.
This.
One of the most tearful of my life.
You were so sick.
The pain extreme.
You couldn’t stop throwing up.
A true nightmare.
No fairytale. Or dream.
You were in the same clothes.
From three days before.
The experience of our union should have been beautiful.
Instead.
More like a horror.
The happy couples.
Laughing. Smiling.
All around.
I teared up silently.
And hid my eyes.
I refused to let my sorrow be heard with a sound.
They finally called our name.
We headed to the back.
Most couples smile and hold hands.
I held you up.
So your fragile body wouldn’t fall to the ground.
The officiant was taken aback.
‘Cancer’, I whispered in his ear.
Quietly.
To ensure that she did not hear.
Your mini me we had not yet told.
I could see him tear up.
A good hearted man.
Anything, but cold.
He led the vows.
You jumping around from the pain.
I lost my composure.
Tears flowing down so hard.
My heart broken.
My soul scarred.
For eight years.
We were apart.
Only to be reunited.
Cancer.
Threatened to once again take my heart.
‘I now pronounce you man and wife,’ he said.
We left the building.
Straight to the ER.
‘We just got married,’ I told the nurses.
As I somehow cracked a smile.
‘She’s my wife.’
They brought us wedding cake and soda.
Tragically beautiful.
But all worth it.
Because I got to say those three words.
About You.
The love of my life.
*This piece was originally published at www.betternotbitterwidower.com
