Message to My Husband
You never asked me to marry you, you just told me that's how it would be. At first, that was the farthest thing from my mind. We seemed like such an unlikely couple. But as time passed, I began to learn who you were. As we spent more time together, a very strong affinity developed between us, and we became inseparable. We were no longer happy nor complete when we were apart.
After our marriage, we began a long adventure roaming the country on our motorcycle, sailing the rivers in our sailboat, skiing in the mountains, exploring Europe, studying, reading and learning. But our most treasured times were those spent together at home, just the two of us. Sometimes we'd share our thoughts and dreams with candlelight and soft music. Other times we sat silently enjoying the comfort of just being together.
After eleven years of marriage, we decided we wanted to join our two lives and create new life from our love. Each creation was a well-planned and orchestrated event, resulting in two beautiful, brilliant children. We were so happy and proud. We spent the next twenty years immersed in their lives, shaping and molding, creating opportunities, and reveling in our good fortune.
During this time, you were becoming somewhat of a celebrity through your BCC TV math classes. You were also busily working on your novel, Canaveral Light. We would travel up and down the coast at every opportunity, as you did research on your novel. Sometimes we grew weary from spending so much time roaming through graveyards, climbing through brush searching for destroyed home sites, exploring all the forts and battlegrounds over and over, but we knew it was your dream, therefore, it was our dream also. Your book was published and what a magnificent piece of writing it was. You spent the next several years speaking to hundreds of organizations throughout the state.
In November, 2006, we found that you had developed a cancer on your tonsil. We started treatment on our 31st anniversary. You sailed through the treatments like a trouper, hardly phased by all the harsh chemicals bombarding your body. Your spirits were high and you were optimistic. I cried every night, afraid you might be taken from me. You were so brave and strong. Then in January, on a Sunday evening, you were robbed of the one gift that helped make you the eloquent orator that you were. It broke my heart to see you struggling so hard with what had come so beautifully and naturally to you in the past.
As with every other challenge in your life, you began tackling the problem with a vengeance, working on your verbal exercises, using Brain Age on your Nintendo DS, going through speech therapy, determined to get your language abilities back. We all tried so hard to help you in every way we could. A few months later, a couple more surgeries, but we couldn't seem to win the battle.
You were my life for 35 years. I can't begin to tell you how empty I will be without you. I sense your presence in every breath and every thought. In every room, I feel you. I see all the things that made you who you were, and I treasure each one.
I want to thank you for all the joy you brought into my life. Thank you for so freely sharing your knowledge and intellectual gifts; for your generosity, love and kindness; for your unselfishness and sacrifices in trying to build our dreams; for your strength, optimism, and determination; but most of all for the two little extensions of you who will live on and carry the spark you ignited in them.
My love, "You'll be my life when I have no other, and I'll be your life when you have no other."
Yours forever and always, Katherine