Part one: A wife’s goodbye. (An entry to my husband.)
Hi honey, this is my farewell. I’m not sure when you’ll read this. I can hope that it’s far after our children are grown, and have flown the nest. I have no intentions to just up and die on you, but this is my precaution for that very thing. With my father dying young, and the cancer that runs rampant through my family – as well as the heart problems, I figured I better write this, just in case. Something to ease the pain for you and the kids, if one morning you should wake to find me dead.
I know that you’re hoping to go first, in fact, you insist that I never leave you alone. It’s kind of sweet because deep down, we both know that you’d be utterly lost without me. With this in mind, I decided to write you a guide. I know that if I die while our children are still young, you will need a little help in handling our brood. No longer will I be there for you to look to, or to step in when you’re unsure of what to do. As far as I see it, this is the next best thing to having me – and I know that in the end, you’ll be glad to have something helpful, over nothing at all.
First, I just want to say that though I am unsure as to how long we will have been together (can’t predict my death), I do know that I love you, and always will. It’s true that you can be a real pain in the ass, and that you drive me crazy, but there is no one else I’d rather lay down with at night. You were my knight in shining pick-up truck from the start. You whisked me away from my home life, and gave me hope for the future. After a week or so, we were living together and I couldn’t have been happier to already step into that wifey roll.
Every moment from the first kiss was filled with passion in these first few months. We were madly in love within a week, though neither of us wanted to admit it. I remember lying in bed, entangled in one another – just before the long ride back to my reality (before over-night visits), you told me that you didn’t want to take me home. That you spent all day thinking about me, so much so, that it had begun effecting your work. You made that comment that you wished you could shrink me, and carry me in your pocket all day. I laughed and suddenly you realized how creepy that would normally sound, but I understood the meaning behind it.
It was nights later, I believe a week to the day, since we had started dating. We were riding down the Interstate when you burst out with “I don’t love you – wait, I mean, I’m not saying that I couldn’t love you, I’m just saying that I don’t love you…right now.” Once again I laughed, this was thrown from far left field. We hadn’t made any mention of love, marriage, or anything more than the slowly growing relationship we had. Up to this point, we had simply been living in the moment, and enjoying each other in every spare minute we could find. I gave you an “Alright, you weirdo.” And we continued on down the road, as if that had been a normal a thing say.
To my surprise, later that night in your bed (before my long trip home), you whispered those three little words, thinking I had drifted off to sleep. With it, you added on that you had been wanting to tell me for some time, but it was too soon. I think you were trying to convince yourself that this was absolutely insane. Now the truck ride made more sense, you were trying to convince yourself that you didn’t love me, so you wouldn’t say it too soon. After that night, I’m pretty sure I went home, and returned to your house the next day, never to leave again. Sure we had our ups and downs, but in the end, we could never stay mad at each other. Not that I really have to tell you, you were there after all. You know the story of us, but I wanted to make sure that you know you were a wonderful blessing from the start. You quite possibly saved my life, and I couldn’t be more thankful for that.
You’re aware of how the story unfolds from there – It’s been six years of marriage, and eight years of relationship. We been through six houses, three kids, two dogs, one ferret, and four trucks – now here we are. At this point, I don’t know if I’ll still love you when we’re old, and grey – or if I will even live that long, but I know that I do love you right now, and that I can’t see myself stopping anytime soon. The truth is, I know I’ll always love you, I just don’t know that we’ll always be together. Whether it be one our deaths, or possibly the death of our marriage. I’ve always left that option in your hands. Only time can answer those sort of things. I personally, hope that I don’t up and die, and the same hope for our marriage….though its death would be at a much slower rate. I hope we have a long and happy – love filled life, but if something should happen – I just hope that you find this guide helpful.
Continue with post 2: Mom’s dead, now what? (How to handle the kids.)