'til Death

I smiled and placed a gentle kiss on his temple. I loved him so much. He didn’t stir at all as I did so. Poor thing, I knew how sick he was. I couldn’t remember the last time he got out of bed. His dinner plate from last night was still on the nightstand, untouched. I reached over and grabbed it. I stroked his head gently before getting up and heading downstairs. I needed to take care of him, no matter how long it took. In sickness and in health, that was the vow I made.

I started preparing breakfast. I wanted him to feel better so I made his favorite, maybe it would convince him to eat a little. I did everything just the way he likes. Eggs, salted but no pepper. Wheat toast, lightly browned and served with butter on the side. Fried potatoes, cooked through but not really “crunchy.” Coffee, served at room temperature. I giggled a little, his food choices were so strange. He would have eaten anything I made, but I wanted to give him what he liked. It didn’t take any extra work, and I knew it would make him happy.

I plated up the food and took it up to him. He hadn’t moved from the bed. I set the plate on the nightstand. I hoped he would eat a couple bites when he woke up. I glanced at our wedding photo on the nightstand. I couldn’t help but smile. How many years was it now? Twelve this August? I picked up the photo. We looked so happy in it.

Jake was the love of my life. We were high school sweethearts. Everybody said we were too young to get married, that our feelings might change, but we knew better. We ran off and got married on our own. Our wedding was the happiest day of my life. I smiled at the picture. 

He was so handsome in it. Tall, strong. I could still feel the way his arms wrapped around my waist so tightly like he was afraid to lose me. He had the biggest smile on his face, his green eyes lit up with excitement. His dark suit hugged against his body, the sleeves were just a little too short on him, I remember we laughed about that when I noticed. He told me I had never looked more beautiful, that me in my wedding dress would be the image he saw for the rest of his life. My bouquet hung loosely from my hand, the other covered his. My smile easily matched his in happiness. A truly happy couple.

I couldn’t help but sigh a little. We still loved each other just as much as that day, I was sure, but I wish he was still as healthy. It seemed like we’d barely come back from our honeymoon before he got sick. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, he really hated going to the doctors. I’d tried to convince him, but he always said your love is all I need to heal. So love him I did. Despite this, he didn’t seem to improve much.

I decided to let him sleep a little more, so I went back downstairs. It wasn’t easy to take care of him like this all the time, but I never once thought about leaving him. In sickness and in health, it was the promise we made to each other. It was my duty as his wife to love him even though he was sick, to love him more when he was sick. I did some light housework, but before I knew it it was already past noon. I started preparing lunch, his favorite again. Turkey sandwich, no mayo and light mustard. Green apple, cut into wedges and skinned. Iced tea, also room temperature but not regular tea because it “tasted different.” I laughed at this. I couldn’t really tell the difference, but it was cute how he could. My stomach growled. Did I forget to make myself food again? 

I sighed. It wasn’t the first time I neglected my own health taking care of him, but I couldn’t help it. I worried more about him than I did myself, and I knew he was the same. That time I caught the flu, he was by my bed for two weeks straight. He wiped my head with a cool towel, gave me my medicine, made sure I drank plenty of water. Poor thing was killing himself to do it too. I practically had to beg him to eat because he kept putting my food before his and forgetting to eat it later. I guess I could see now how it was easy to forget.

I would just eat whatever he didn’t finish from breakfast. Why waste it? If there was nothing left then that was even better, it meant he was feeling okay. I cracked the door and peeked in, he still didn't move. Still sleeping, the food looked completely untouched. I cleared away the old plate and put the new one down. I stroked his head with my free hand.

“Jake,” I said gently,” try to get up soon. It’s not good to stay in bed all day.”

He didn’t even grunt in acknowledgment. I could only imagine how sick he must be. I went back downstairs to give him some peace while I ate. Everything was cold now, but I didn’t mind. I chewed on the soft toast, thinking about what to do. I’d considered calling a doctor, but I was afraid to. What if they tried to take him away from me? What if it was something serious? What if they told me he wouldn’t get better? 

I think that was my biggest fear, that he might never get better, or might somehow get worse. There was a while where he looked really bad. I worried about what to do, but luckily it got better after that first month. I never wanted to see him like that again. I had to take care of him, I had to keep loving him until he got better. In sickness and in health, I promised.

I started thinking about what to do for dinner. Something healthy, but delicious. Something to make him feel better. Chicken, baked so it would still be healthy. Roasted vegetables, maybe a little honey glaze to add some sweetness. Biscuits, homemade with love and a little bit of butter. After all, just because he was sick didn’t mean he couldn’t still enjoy food. I felt exhausted as I plated the food. 

It was always like this. Maybe it was the fact that I neglected my own meals, maybe it was stress, maybe I was just tired from all the housework. Whatever the reason, I was always exhausted after dinner. I brought his food up to him, he still hadn’t moved. I sighed, I would just have to accept he wasn’t getting up today either. Maybe tomorrow. I grabbed the untouched lunch and went downstairs. 

I only took a few bites of the sandwich before heading back up. I was too tired to eat properly. I entered the room quietly and slid into bed next to him. I scooted a little closer. I missed him, I wanted to be near him. I tried to do it carefully, but I accidentally bumped him. His head rolled off the pillow and fell to the floor, clattering across the wooden floor. 

“Jake!” I cried, leaping up and retrieving his head.

I examined it frantically. No chipping, no teeth missing, no cracks. I let out a sigh of relief and clutched it close to my heart. Its whiteness gleamed in the moonlight from the window. I covered it with my hand. I didn’t want to remember how sick he was. 

Twelve years this August. Twelve years since he made me the happiest girl in the world. Eleven years and six months since he got sick. Eleven years and five months since he last got out of bed. I felt tears in my eyes. Jake, my sweetheart. It was like he said, if I loved him enough he would heal. I guess it just wasn’t enough today, I’d have to love him even more tomorrow. 

I placed his head back on the pillow carefully. I was twice as careful about getting into bed this time. I couldn’t be selfish, he needed space to heal. I snuggled under the covers and looked at him in the moonlight. He didn’t move.

“Goodnight, Jake. I love you,” I said softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. His love spoke for itself. He was here with me, and we’d always be together. In sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part, and maybe even after that. I smiled and placed a gentle kiss on his temple. I loved him so much.