A Picture

We were only dating a few months when he proposed. I'd just had my oldest daughter, Natalia, and was finishing up my last semester of college. He had at least a year before he would finish his degree in Electric Engineering at Purdue Cal. There he was- the man with whom I knew I wanted my happily ever, asking me to be his wife...

I burst into tears.

"What's wrong, Ma'mor?" His dark round eyes were intense with concern.

"I don't want to lose you."

He held both my hands and said, "You can never lose me. I won't ever go unless you tell me to leave."

In the weeks that followed I tried to explain how love isn't enough. Without a solid foundation, there's no way we would work- regardless of how much we loved one another. I was always practical, and he was ever the hopeless romantic. He'd laugh or smile and hug me, and then the playfulness would fade. He'd touch my face and with disarming seriousness he'd tell me "Sooner or later, Ma'mor, you're going to be my wife".

I hadn't thought back to those early days of our love story in quite some time. Sitting in the Cancer Treatment Center hotel after six weeks in the ICU, it seemed like a lifetime ago.

I loved that the hospital gave their patients a hotel room after extended hospital stays, so the patient and their caregiver could spend the night in a comfortable bed before making the log trek home. Exhausted and body sore from over a month sleeping in a chair, I crawled into bed with him.

This time had been scary. We'd just gotten back to Chicago from Zion where he got chemo five days every other week. Instead of going home and settling in with Netflix and two-for-one spaghetti from Capri pizza, we raced over to St. Margaret Hospital. My grandma was dying. She was scheduled for a fairly minor surgery, but at some time in the pre-op they discovered she was septic. They began with transfusions, but when my mom called me that morning, it seemed clear Grandma wasn't going to make it.

When Jaime and I arrived at the hospital, I had a barrage of questions for the doctor.

"Sepsis is hard to beat," the doctors explained. "Her blood pressure has dropped to 60/50, and she's on vasopressors that are just prolonging the inevitable."

I looked at the woman in the bed- she wasn't my grandmother. She passed away a few hours later.

Jaime drove me to my parents' home where the family gathered to laugh and cry and set about the job of funeral arrangements. My grandpa, who had lost his bride of 67 years was hardly up for the task. He didn't want to be anywhere but the home he shared with his love. We were worried about him being home alone, so my love went home with my grandpa, so he could be with his love... or as close as it came.

My grandma's wake followed quickly afterward. While holding both my grandpa and father, their grief spilling down their cheeks, my eyes met Jaime's. Something was wrong.

I was worried. Our eyes met, and he slowly shook his head. My vote had been for Jaime to sit this one out, but he was a pallbearer, and he thought he was Superman. He just might have been. Looking at his glassy eyes and worsening color, I wondered what particular sort of Kryptonite had gotten to him. Chemo had become a kiddie cocktail of sorts, and I began to worry about the dreaded infection. The last one had ended in a two week hospital stay.

When we got to Cancer Treatment Center, they ran the regular tests and started him on an IV and broad spectrum antibiotics. Who has time to wait for results to come in? Better to start the most likely treatment early. He quickly began to look better, and we relaxed a bit- turning on the Bulls' game and ordering a pizza. He held my hand for a minute, held my eyes for a moment longer, and smiled. I squeezed his hand and exhaled.

A bit too soon as it turned out. Machines started buzzing and nurses rushed in. His blood pressure dropped to 50/30.

"Julie, you're at work? You're always in Florida," he teased his favorite nurse. His voice was thready.

"How in the hell are you talking?" he bit back. "Just stay calm."

I watched in a daze as his room became a hub of activity. They tilted the hospital bed upside down.

"Should I be worried?" I asked Julie.

Before she could answer, another beep, this time a long one, and more doctors and nurses, and I couldn't see his face...

They rushed him to Intensive Care and he was unconscious for days....

"He's septic", they told me, and the world began to spin. Everything the doctors told me about my grandmother came rushing back. I ran to the bathroom to vomit. I hadn't even gotten a chance to say goodbye. I sat by his side, holding his hand, talking to him, hoping he could hear, and begging for a chance to say goodbye- until one day he said "Hey Boo!" and smiled...

It wasn't an easy recovery, but I knew he had a lot of fight in him.

Six weeks later, as I curled next to him in bed all the tears I hadn't cried poured down my cheeks and onto his T shirt.

"What's wrong, Ma'mor?" he asked, his eyes heavy with fatigue and dark with concern.

"I thought I was going to lose you".

"I already told you, you can't lose me. I'll never leave unless you tell me to."

And in that instant, I relived our whole courtship.

I believed him, that he would never leave unless I told him to.

Two years later, we were back in the ICU.

"Multiple organ failure" was how the doctors described the Kryptonite this time.

"Are you tired, Boo?" I did my best to hold back the tears.

"What's wrong Ma'mor?" he asked.

"It's okay, Boo. We'll be okay. If it's too much..."

"It was always important to me to marry a strong woman." He smiled and held my hand. "I'd do it all again."

The next morning he passed in his sleep.

It's hard some days. I look at this picture. I remember he kept his promise. He'd never leave if I didn't tell him to go.

I look at my Lucy, wearing his face. He'll never leave me at all.