Two tales are calling to be shared today. The events are significant in the tapestry of our life together. However, the date is only part of my memory because it is exactly one month prior to his passing.
That morning, we attended church with Chuck's family in California. Their church's ritual is on the Sunday prior to Valentines Day couples celebrating a significant anniversary (read divisible by 5) renew their wedding vows in front of God & the congregation. Guest couples are encouraged to take part in the ceremony regardless of the anniversary year. Of course with us visiting that weekend, my in-laws strongly suggested we participate. I had very mixed feelings over this request as renewing my wedding vows was not something I wanted to be witnessed by hundreds of strangers. Unbeknownst to my in-laws, when the cancer came back I asked Chuck to marry me again. I wanted him to understand that even with knowing the tragic ending of our story, I would absolutely choose him as my husband again, and again. How it was orchestrated was my issue to overcome. The bottom line is what's important is the vows happened. The where and when details are trivial.
Truth is I had no need to worry about who was watching. As we stood at the altar together, I placed my hand on his heart and everyone else fell away. We looked deep into each other's eyes and pledged "for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness & in health, to death do us part." Those are the hardest words to say while you are actively living them. You can't know the relief and grace you feel knowing you possess the strength and resolve to carry your love through the hard parts of the vows. Nor what it is to be on the receiving end of the flood of gratitude, love and vulnerability when your partner hears that you are pledging to them & God to be by their side to the end. Especially when the end was dangerously near. Nothing I could have given Chuck in 10 lifetimes would have ever meant more.
Later that evening, Chuck would leave me for the first time. We were on the plane home to Seattle and he needed to visit the washrooms. The seat belt signs were illuminated, so I flagged down a flight attendant to get permission for Chuck to be up. I fought the instinct to follow him. Seconds later a tapping on my shoulder meant I should come to help Chuck as he was struggling on his feet. I arrived at the back of the plane to no Chuck and both washroom doors unlocked and shut. I opened the right door first to find Chuck standing there, slumped over, out cold. It took me calling his name with rising hysteria, shaking, tapping his face and 45 seconds or more for me to revive him. Reflex opened his eyes twice and absolutely nothing was looking back at me. Chuck was not there. Such a vacant look I will never forget. Frightening, absolutely frightening. The third time his eyes fluttered open, I witnessed the light of his soul returning. Luckily, a doctor was on board just a few rows up. After assessing Chuck's conditions, he determined we could make the flight home and avoid an emergency landing. The two hours passed excruciatingly slow. Chuck remained in the bathroom with an oxygen mask on and I sat on the plane floor in front of the restroom door until we needed to prepare for landing. Because of us, the plane's back facilities were unusable and service was limited. We had a wonderful attendant that stayed with us the whole flight to calm our nerves. We were both just so scared, embarrassed, deflated and exhausted. The flight ended with the "walk of shame" as Chuck dubbed it. We were escorted out by four paramedics through an angry sea of passengers that we inconvenienced the whole trip. I know there were lots of sympathetic onlookers in the crowd, but plenty of stares left scorch marks.
Weeks later Chuck would confide in me that while unconscious he was in a warm, comforting and loving place. And he did not want to return. It was the panic-stricken look on my face that pulled him back. He came back for more out of love for me.
How can one day contain so many extraordinary gestures of love?
Perhaps this final act was meant
To clinch a lifetimes argument
That nothing comes from violence and nothing ever could
For all those born beneath an angry star
Lest we forget how fragile we are
On and on the rain will fall
Like tears from a star, like tears from a star
On and on the rain will say
How fragile we are, how fragile we are
"Fragile" by Sting
Comments