1. I met my husband at a wedding in 2003. I knew he was the one. We went on a few dates but then my Dad died and I couldn't handle dating seriously. He couldn't handle my aloofness. Well 4 years goes by. We had stopped talking. I would think about him every once in awhile. The more jerks I dated, the more I realized how I let a wonderful man get away. I emailed him. My email gets bounced back. I figured that was a sign. Well 3 days later, he calls me. Completely out of the blue. We met for a drink and the sparks were flying. I never wanted to be apart from him again. 9 months later he proposed. We got married 6 months after that. We were married for 7 months when he was diagnosed with cancer. He died one month later. I am so lucky to have been so in love and to have married my soulmate. I just wish I had more time.
2. When I realized that I didn't care what happened in life as long as I had her.
3. It was the worst day of her life.
We'd known each other for years, and I did love her, very much so, and I was constantly amazed that I had found such a brilliant and beautiful whirlwind of chaos, who was willing to love my son as if it were her own.
But I never realized how much I loved her until that day. She was working in industrial automation, and just came home from a business trip, she'd been coding on a live production site, which is exhausting and stressfull and usually at very odd hours. She was tired and cranky, and when she opened the door, I had to tell her that the police had just called. Her family had been in a car crash, her mum dead, her father in a coma. On the two-hour drive, she was looking so fragile, with her wide-opened, green eyes, and she hugged herself into her mums' pullover, which somehow was so much more intimate, so much more painful to watch than tears. I'll never forget her trembling hands and how she clung to me, the desperate way we made love that night, that whimper that she tried to supress, and how helpless I felt.
But on the next day, she was changed forever. Gone was the quirky, nerdy girl, and here was a woman, graceful and elegant as her late mother, and she walked with a dignity and strength that I didn't know where it came from. I was just frozen and shell-shocked, and she was identifying the horrific something that was left of her mum, all alone, and I wasn't even allowed to be there. Later, much later- she told me about the blood on the
metal table, and how there was only half of her face left, and how she hadn't been able to stop shaking despite it was summer, about the police officer who handed her a purse and some bags, about the metallic smell that greeted her when she opened them. She organized the funeral, she arranged all kinds of legal things, she spent hours at her fathers' hospital bed, she went through all the bills and letters and finished the laundry and took out the garbage. She invited over a hundred people for the next day, called every single one, told them with a not-quite steady voice that her mum was dead.
In the evening, she took my son into the kitchen. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a simple black t-shirt, looking hauntingly beautiful and broken, with her tangled curls, her chopped lips, and her red-rimmed eyes. "I am going to teach you how to make chocolate cake," she said, taking his little hands into hers, "the way my grandmother was taught by her mother, the way my mother was taught by her mother, the way I was taught by my mother."
She was 23. At that gesture, my heart went out for her more than she'll ever know.
4. She prefers pancakes while I prefer waffles. It was around midnight and I couldn't sleep so I snuck out to the store and (Continued)