Promises

You shouldn't have died. It was a terrible waste of a life so rich. I don't know if I can live my life without Shawn, my husband and love of 45 years. So much history, so much love and romance, so many fights, I cannot count them all. We married out of college, much to the disappointment of both sets of parents. They told us that we were too young. They told us we were stunting our potential for lasting careers. But we proved them wrong, didn't we? Neither one of us gave up our dreams, and while we had several disagreements over the years, the stubbornness we both had kept us together when so many of our friends had called it quits. Even now, I look back and cannot believe that we stayed together. Failure wasn't an option, as you would always say, and because you believed it so strongly, I believed it too. Our children are grown, and have children of their own as well. Being a grandparent is wonderful. Being a parent wasn't as fun, but you and I did the best we could.

I remember the night you asked me to marry you. I had fun dating you all through college, going on dates in between studying and exams and football. You told me that you knew right away that you wanted to marry me. I wasn't as sure, as I loved the freedom of being in college and not "tied down". You never rushed me, never were impatient, and always understanding. I felt free being with you. It was nearing the end of our senior year that you took me on that date that changed my life. You took me off campus, and out of the city. There was a quaint little restaurant just out of town where we had spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread. After eating, we walked hand in hand under the moonlight. I can still see the night sky littered with tiny sparkling diamonds. It was a warm night, with the promise of summer not far away. The path you had chosen was one we had walked before. We talked about our final exams, and how we wanted to stay in the city and work after graduation. I felt a little sad that our college romance would be nothing more than a fond memory. I didn't tell you this until years later. I didn't want to make it sound like I was fishing for something more.

You stopped then and turned me to face you. As I looked into your eyes, I saw something. A fire and zeal for life that made you even more attractive than you already were. You took my face in both of your hands and kissed me so sweetly and tenderly. You stole my breath away. Did I really want to lose this? The companionship and the intelligent banter we often exchanged? Were you telling me that it was time to move on? Was our romance already at an end? I felt dizzy by the emotion that was swamping me.

You then dropped down to one knee. "I love you Katie" you said. "I've loved you since we first met. I wanted to give you your space - to keep it light. But I can't anymore. I want you with me for the rest of our lives. I need you in my life! You have to say 'yes' Katie. Please say yes!" You then pulled a small velvet box out of your pocket. A tiny diamond ring glinted against the fabric. At that moment all of the stars in the sky couldn't compare with that little ring.

I started crying then and there. I didn't know until that moment that I wanted you too. I was skeptical about marriage right out of college, but I knew that we needed to be together. You raised up to hold me. I was babbling, "yes, yes yes!" into your chest. At that moment, I knew we would be together.

And we were. Through thick and thin, good times and bad, richer and poorer (though we've never really been poor). Just like our vows. There were a few times I thought things were just too tough, that we should just bail. You never did, Shawn. You always believed in "us" no matter how hard things got. Now it isn't "us" anymore. You developed pneumonia, and the infection was too much for your body. You are gone from me Shawn, and it is hard to believe you are gone. I haven't packed up your things yet; it is much too soon. But one thing is for sure: I live in two places: here and with you. I cannot wait to be where you are and to be together again.


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