Til death do you part

Traditional wedding vows include pledging fidelity until death separates the union.  When you are saying those words, all starry-eyed, in love and ready to embark on "happily ever after," you do not necessarily embrace the reality that one day death will indeed separate you.  For some it is sooner rather than later, yet we all tend to sail on into the sunset believing that tomorrow will never come.

It was no different for me. I pledged those words to my husband, Pat. In a world where the vows should say, not until death do us part, but until "money, adultery, shiny new things, etc." part us, we managed to stay together for 33 years of marriage. We quickly discovered that marriage was not sailing off into a glorious sunset. It was work - emotional, physical work. And word we did. We worked through personal problems, family problems, work problems, through times of plenty and times of little. We laughed and cried, fought hard and made up harder. After three decades together, we found a comfortable rhythm of life and were content to march to our own special beat together.

Death changed that. He arrived unexpectedly, of course, uninvited. Very few invite death knowingly. People that smoke cigarettes should know but most seem shocked when the inevitable consequences arise. They are clearly giving death a hand-written invitation but are, like Pat, in complete denial. I had expected at least another 5-10 years before Pat's poor health choices caught up to him in a life-ending way. He, on the other hand, obliviously boasted that it would be him who would be taking care of me in our old age. I had come to terms with the fact that nagging, pleading, and crying weren't going to lead him to change his ways. I did my best to provide healthy foods at home and to encourage him to take the vitamins and fish oil his doctor recommended.

Two years later his death still reminds me to take to heart that life can turn at any moment from idyllic to tragic. When this occurs, rest assured that the annoying things you feel you have to pick at, those things will be things you miss one day. Cherish the opportunity to just “be” with the people you care about and who care about you. You honestly never know when the scene will change from idyllic to tragic.