My Love

We were in the kitchen when the call came. I had taken off work to be there. My wife of 30 years and I sat at the kitchen table, laughing over so many good and wonderful memories. Our warmth and genuine love for one another was vibrant on a level beyond words or even thought. We both felt it. We both knew and cherished its reality. It existed on a level beyond description. A level that one felt, experienced, and related to, but not spoken. Our pitiful language could never do it justice. We held hands. We both knew that we were trying to have more time by enjoying every second of every minute, because of the possibility of our worst-case scenario. Cancer. We knew the odds were not in our favor. This morning’s breakfast was for our reminisce. Our joy of our life. Our celebration of us. It would be beautiful no matter what that call would bring. Our love and hope. Our devotion to each other demanded that this would be so. For our us. For our history. For our future. For our hopes. We would live as we had lived. The antique wall phone rang loudly. Piercing our lover’s powwow. My love looked at me as she had thousands of times before. Her eyes glistened with moisture. Deep, true love radiated from them. I had lived and died, rose, and sank, built and broken in those eyes. This call will never change that. I only pray she sees the same depth of love in mine. The two shall become one. I remember reading that in the bible. I have come to know it to be true. “Are you going to answer that?” I recognized the tone in her voice. It was the same tone when our son at three years old, had a fever of 103. The tone spoke of courage, grounded in love. There was no room for fear or panic in that tone. No room for anything but bravery, clear and concise thinking. “Get the car, we are taking him to the emergency room!” She did not bark the orders as drill Sargent, she did not raise her voice. She spoke directly, in fact, directly to the place that she and I shared, our deep well of love. My sense of panic and concern melted away, as I grabbed my keys from the kitchen counter and backed the car from the garage, and opened the door for her and my son to get in. There would be no use of the car seat behind us tonight. I knew that she would cradle him all the way to the ER. She climbed into the passenger side, I closed the door and hurried over to get behind the wheel. We arrived at a very crowded ER. For the first time, I saw a look of despair cross her face. I have seen it before, it always showed up when there was concern for our children or my well-being. Never, ever concerning herself. The person checking us in saw the look as well. She reassured us that the ER always takes priority for the sickest patients to see the doctor first. “Your child looks really sick.” She said from behind the thick glass. “We will get him back as soon as possible.” she said assuredly. We both were relieved and grateful for her comforting words. We took a seat next to another couple with three children. Two boys on the floor roughhousing, and a tiny little red-faced girl in her mothers’ arms. She looked both worried and overwhelmed. My wife reached out with the same steely clam, that I have seen thousands of times throughout our marriage. “My name is Nona; this is my husband, Bruce. And who might you be? “I am Jackie, and this is my husband, Kenneth.” She looked relieved. She was now out of that constant cycle of worry, responsibility, and fear. They made small talk for a few minutes, only interrupted by her noticing one or both of her boys about to cross the line from roughhousing to a brawl, or them interfering with others in the ER. My wife keen, and ever wise, suggested that Kenneth and I take the boys out to get something to eat. She noticed the hurried and worried look on my face, and gave that wonderful, it’s okay look, and then she spoke it aloud. I knew that she just wanted to remove the added layer of concern from Jackie’s mind. That day, we came to know each other, and became lifelong friends with Kenneth and Jackie. I am not surprised that this memory came up, at this moment. When we returned, both wives were back to see a doctor. Kenneth stayed with his sons. I asked to go back with my love. A nurse escorted me. My son had the flu. Nona looked relieved, so I was relieved. I walked over and kissed my ever brave, and ever beautiful wife. My trip down memory lane evaporated as my love asked again; “Are you going to answer the phone?” She was smiling now, she often teased me of my penchant to daydream in the middle of anything. “Yeah, my love.” I chuckled nervously, I was not anywhere near her league, of calm. I knew what this call could mean. I also knew that I had to answer. My gut wrenching in knots, my hand clammy and sweaty, I reached for the receiver, and promptly dropped it. I scrambled to pick it up and managed a very hoarse “Hello.” The voice at the other end was that of Doctor McCarter. The knots in my stomach multiplied. My head now joined my hands in mutual perspiration. Before I could manage a word, Dr. McCarter forged ahead. “Listen, I won’t prolong this, I’ll get right to the point.” She did not say this angerly or arrogantly, but mercifully. We had been through the wringer, waiting for this call. “It is as I feared, it is cancer of a very aggressive nature.” We already suspected as much. All our hopes and prayers were of course for this not to be so. Nona, reading my face knew. One lone tear escaped the corner of her eye. I on the other hand had many. The Doctor continued; “If we aggressively treat it with Chemo, there is a chance. This Time I spoke before he could finish. “How much of a chance?” The Doctor paused; it seemed like eternity waiting for her response. A million thoughts raced through my head. Our life together, our children, our grandchildren. Her Widowed mother. Our vacations. Our Honeymoon. Our first kiss. It was on our second date. I had known on our first date that I wanted to marry her. I was instantly smitten. We had been set up on a blind date by her friend Karen, who also happened to be friends with my sister Cissy. I did not put much faith in blind dates. In the past, they bombed badly. “No!” I said to my sister. “No way!” I was a first-year student in college, home on spring break. I did not want to narrow down my possibilities’. There were so many beautiful women at Virginia state. Why should I be tied down with a girl back home in Coatesville? “Just go out with her! She said “There is no obligation! Do not be such a stick in the mud with a stick up your.” I cut her off. We both burst out in laughter. ‘All right.” I spoke. “Just one date, so that you’ll get off of my back.” I was so sure that it would bomb, and that I would have the joy of saying “I told you so.” I wanted to kiss Nona and more at first sight. She completely blew me away. Her skin was the color of a ginger snap. Later, when we were intimate, I let her in on my first impression and our secret pet name for her was Ginger from then on. She had deep brown eyes, which could invite one in, or pierce you with daggers. Long, lean legs. Her laugh sent me into hysterics. Yes, I was hooked! At the end of our first date, I leaned in for a kiss. She threw up her hand between our nearly touching lips. “Not even first base on first date!” I was taken aback, I pulled away to look at her and read her intent. Our eyes met, and we both burst into laughter. She gave me a peck on the cheek and whispered in my ear,” I am worth the wait. Wait for me, and I'll be here waiting for you.” My knees buckled, and I felt dizzy. I was committed at first sight. Her confirmation that she felt the same, sent me to the moon! “Are you still there?” Doc McCarter’s voice snapping me back to the present. “Yeah.” I managed to say, I realized that my face was wet with tears, and that my wife was now looking out of the kitchen window. She was in the only place that I could not visit. That place within herself, that place that we all reserve for ourselves. We all have our own little island that is reserved for each of us. Try as Nona and I might, we made small increments on each other’s island, in our thirty years. We each preserved more of it than we wanted. We wanted to give each other our all. We gave it our best shot. “30 maybe 40 percent chance of survival, I wish we had found it sooner.” Her voice was distant, I heard them, but I did not. We had already discussed that she did not want to do chemo, if there was not at least a 60 percent or better chance of life. I knew that I was losing her, I wanted more than ever to join her on her little personal Island. “Doc, let me call you back. My wife and I have a lot to talk about. "Although every conversation had already taken place, and all things were in order, I did not want to waste precious time, time that now was so little, doing anything but loving my wife. She turned to me, and to my surprise, she gave a quick jerk of her head toward the stairway. I knew that she wanted to make love, she wanted us, our souls to be as close as they could ever be. We knew from our first moment of intimacy that we connected at the deepest of levels. Our second date took place a month later. Vacations and obligations, prolonging. I was consumed with my thoughts about her. I recalled every curve of her face and body, and I thought that I would burst with delight, admiration, and over the moon love for her. I could not wait. The last few hours before I was to pick her up, felt like an eternity. She wasted no time. I rang the bell; she answered with a huge smile and kissed me flush on the lips. Soon it was opened mouth. My heart was full. I knew we would never be apart after. She later recounted to me that she had felt the same way, constantly thinking of me. How time was trudging through concrete waiting for our next date, how she knew that she would marry me. That night we made love for the first time. We married a month after I graduated from college, she living with me off campus for those three years. We simply could not stand being apart. Now it seems inevitable. Sunday May 23rd, 2021. The darkest day of my life. The worst thing about cancer is that a person can walk around living life as they had for years and not know that the insidious thing is inside. Cannibalizng your body one cell at a time. Nona was the epitome of good health before her diagnosis. Up until the last month of her life, you would not suspect a thing was wrong with her. We lived every day of the next three months to the fullest after the diagnosis. We rang every drop from every day. We traveled, we loved, and we lived! My love said goodbye to me early Sunday Morning. She beckoned me over with a weak but determined wave of her hand. Through dry lips she whispered kiss me. I leaned in, weeping, and sobbing. “I want to share my last breath with you, my love.” We embraced and kissed as deeply as her frail body would allow. “I love you, my love.” I said into her ear. After which she went limp in my arms. I held her rocking back and forth for an exceptionally long time. I only released her when the hospice nurse arrived. I suddenly felt lost and alone. I realized that our first kiss had filled my heart, and our last had broken it. Goodbye my love, wait for me, I lo…No more words, I have none. Tears, just tears