Sands of Everlasting

I sink my feet into the cool morning sand as the faint hues of rose and honey climb from the depths of the horizon beyond my gaze. The soft sound of the ocean waves crashing sends mists of sea water to my face. I smile faintly as nostalgia creeps from the back of my brain. This moment feels exactly the same as the countless times I've basked in it before. "Well," a sharp pain in my chest reminds me, "not exactly the same."

The past years of my life had been a whirl of ambulance sirens and hospital bills. David always laughed whenever I complained about how I wished we lived somewhere that had free healthcare. "But, my love, where's the political fun in that?" He'd whisper in my ear and I'd chuckle. Throughout our 20 years of marriage, David had somehow always found a way to turn my natural anger into laughter, and I turned his whimsical thoughts into realistic actions. Growing up in multiple foster homes, I had never really understood what love was until I met David. We had been introduced through some of our mutual friends at a beach bonfire. As soon as I looked into his sparkling green eyes surrounded by forming smile lines, I knew that I had finally found my forever home. A few months and many smiles after that, we got married on the beach we met at. It was a small wedding because I had no family that was willing to come, but David's large, rambunctious family made up for that. Being just out of college and practically broke, we didn't have the chance to go on our honeymoon. We talked about it many times while laying together, but we never went through with our plans. Besides, we had something else we wanted to make that involved little feet and dirty diapers.

During our time spent trying to have a child, David was planning, planning, and planning. He had already fashioned a crib out of some old wood piles and researched whether breast feeding or bottle feeding was better. His favorite activity was coming up with names at random times. Once, in the middle of the night, he shook me awake and said, "Maggie, Maggie, dear. Which name do you like better - Marin or Morgan?" I groaned and hit him with a pillow. I was excited for our parenting future, but nervous as well. I wanted to make sure my baby didn't have to go through the mess of a childhood I went through. David, a perfect husband as always, fondly reminded me that we would someday be amazing parents. We never realized that it wouldn't be in this life.

The first time David and I went to the fertility doctor was sometime in late August. We had tried many times, but I always ended up with negative pregnancy tests. Each negative test felt like a dagger stabbed into my soul. The doctor had been puzzled as it seemed we had been doing everything correctly and we didn't have any medical concerns. He sent us to a different doctor to get some tests, and that's when my life completely shattered.

It was November 16th when we got the test results back. The office called my cell phone as David and I were dancing around the kitchen doing dishes. I laughed at a joke my husband had said as I reached for the phone, holding a bowl in my other hand.

"Hello?" I asked, a smile still resting on my lips.

"Hi, is this Mrs. Dubose?" A light female voice answered.

"Yes, this is her. Do you have our results?"

"I'm afraid so." My smile fell like a stone. "Mrs. Dubose, the tests have diagnosed your husband with Stage 3 testicular cancer."

I've replayed that moment over and over in my head, and each time I hear the sound of the ceramic bowl shattering across the tiles in sync with whatever was left of my heart.

Years and multiple tests, treatments, and tumor growth passed by, none of which helped my David. I could never imagine the pain he went through, but he somehow managed to look on the positive side.

"Don't worry, my love, I'll be spiff and shining in no time," He'd say when he caught a glimpse of my melancholy expression that

I tried so hard to keep hidden away for his sake.

It was a bright, sunny day with birds chirping and children laughing. A day David would have loved. That morning, I stopped by our favorite coffee shop and bought his usual, a drink named after our beach. I headed to the hospital and opened the door to his wing. Moments before I stepped into his room, David's doctor called my name from the hall behind me and I turned around swiftly. His expression, overflowing with emotions, wasn't uncommon in the cancer wing, but somehow sent my anxiety into a tailspin.

"Maggie, will you come sit down with me for a minute?" He asked.

I almost protested, almost said, "After I greet my husband," but my feet guided me towards the doctor without a second thought.

"Maggie, I'm so sorry. Last night, David's lung tumor had caused fluid to build up. He died at approximately 4 this morning. I'm so, so sorry."

The first thing I felt was peace, and a bit of gratitude. My wonderful husband was no longer in pain and was now in a good place. After a few seconds of calm, the other emotions hit me like a tsunami. I screamed out pure pain as the last shreds of hope died. I cried and cried and cried until I had created a whole ocean of the indescribable. I felt things that no human, no matter how cruel, deserved to feel. My soul died along with its mate.

Now, as I sit on this beach, recalling all of the memories, I remember something David had whispered to me the night before he died.

"My love, I want you to know something before I go."

Tears pricked my eyes. "You won't go, okay?"

David ignored my response and grasped my hands with whatever strength he had left. "No matter where I am, I will love you until our beach is washed away. I will love you until our sun stops rising. I will love you until the end of time."

- M.H.