To him, seeing his father carrying his mother out had become an essential part of his life. My wife gestured to our son to come closer and hugged him tightly. I turned my face away because I was afraid I might change my mind at this last minute. I then held her in my arms, walking from the bedroom, through the sitting room, to the hallway. Her hand surrounded my neck softly and naturally. I held her body tightly; it was just like our wedding day. But her much lighter weight made me sad.
On the last day, when I held her in my arms I could hardly move a step. Our son had gone to school. I held her tightly and said, “I hadn’t noticed that our life lacked intimacy.” I drove to office, jumped out of the car swiftly without locking the door. I was afraid any delay would make me change my mind. I walked upstairs.
Jane opened the door and I said to her, “Sorry, Jane, I do not want the divorce anymore.”
She looked at me, astonished, and then touched my forehead. “Do you have a fever?” she said.
I moved her hand off my head. “Sorry, Jane, I said, I won’t divorce. My marriage life was boring probably because she and I didn’t value the details of our lives, not because we didn’t love each other anymore. Now I realize that since I carried her into my home on our wedding day I am supposed to hold her until death do us part.”
Jane seemed to suddenly wake up. She gave me a loud slap and then slammed the door and burst into tears. I walked downstairs and drove away. At the florist shop on the way, I ordered a bouquet of flowers for my wife. The salesgirl asked me what to write on the card. I smiled and wrote, “I’ll carry you out every morning until death do us part.”
That evening I arrived home, flowers in my hands, a smile on my face, I ran up stairs, only to find my wife in the bed–dead. My wife had been fighting CANCER for months and I was too busy with Jane to even notice. She knew that she would die soon and she wanted to save me from whatever negative reaction it would have on our son, in case we pushed through with the divorce. At least—in the eyes of our son—I’m a loving husband….
Think of a marriage as a garden. A garden requires love, care and constant attention or else it will wither and die. But if nurtured, the very same garden can blossom into a beautiful field of vibrant flowers. The seeds of love are still there; they just need the hands of a caring gardener to bloom.
Sharing this touching story using the buttons below.
