Forty-two and Fine.
When my life is through,
And the angels ask me to recall
The thrill of them all.
Then I shall tell them I remember you.
I remember when I was little and played house with my sister, Janice. We had imaginary husbands who were strong and handsome. Husbands who took care of us. Husbands who fought Indians or slew dragons or brought us food during famines. They loved us above all else. We only knew that's the way it should be, so that's the way it was in our play.
I grew up, searched for that, and found it.
I remember the day I met you. I remember the time of day, the weather, how you looked when you ran up those stairs three at a time, your laugh and your eyes.
I remember the first phone call, the first date, the first kiss, your smile when I walked down the aisle towards you.
I remember your face each time I told you I was pregnant. I remember how I didn't even have to tell you with Max, how the words wouldn't come, and how you knew anyway. How you held me when I cried - assuring me I wasn't too old and this would be a blessing.
I can still see your love with each child you held.
Your patience all those days in the hospital at the end of my pregnancy with Isabela. Your comfort to me in the midst of the uncertainity with Max's development. Your wisdom with EBC, when I was falling apart.
The strength you give me, when you are fighting fear yourself, to know our girl is sick and no one can fix it.
I remember all of it, the good times and the bad - and I know God's way of getting me to this place in my life is the blessing of you. His blessing of happiness to me has been the joy of being your wife.
I thank you for the wee hours in the morning of January 11 and a forgiveness you gave me I did not deserve.
I thank you for your courage in your personal battles. For coming out the victor on the other side and showing me what a hero is. Nothing has ever or will ever in my life mean more to me than that.
I love you. Those words don't seem to bear enough weight for what I feel. But you know.
Now honey, I continue to speak the truth when I say -
I would thank you to pick up your clothes and rinse out the sink when you shave.
I love you, I'm a neurotic basketcase without you, don't die first, and Happy Birthday.