|The insane happiness of true love|
I wish I didn't have to report that the love of my life passed away at the end of July.
Forgive my writing if it's less than perfect these days.
He was ill for a long time and we never knew. He always seemed like the picture of health and youthful vigor until that last nightmare week. Even then, covered head to toe in tubes and wires and restraints to keep him in the hospital bed, when doctors would ask how he felt, he responded, "I'm fine." Maybe he was sticking to social convention, but I prefer to think he was responding on the basis of the health of his soul. It was always unencumbered and beautiful. Never had a sick day in its life, even as his body gave out.
I wrote a blog post for each of our anniversaries. Some are all about how great our marriage was and some are more tangential. Some are long and detailed and others are short for lack of adequate words.
As I read these over, I'm struck by how little time was required for our love to become exponentially truer, bigger, and better. The love of your life is the love of your life, no matter how little time you get to spend with him. It's appropriate that time never seemed to touch my husband. He was always as fresh and new as the first bloom of springtime.
Believe me, I appreciate that not everyone gets even a chance at something as great as our marriage. I don't know if it's possible, but I hope the slight inconvenience of death won't stop our love from continuing to grow and improve the world. It is my greatest achievement that I love and am loved by such an extraordinary human being.