Again, and over and over.
Even knowing that you would someday leave me.
Not of your own will, but because cancer is an evil and twisted demon that seeps into the pores of a healthy person’s body and wreaks havoc within.
You left, not of your own free will.
And I, also not of my own will, stayed.
In the first years that followed, as I stayed, not of my own will, I tried desperately to remember you and I.
You, and who you were with me,
And I, and who I was with you.
I forgot how to move my feet as they moved with yours in a slow dance around the room.
I forgot how we moved together in our last dance, there at the side of that long and distant road in Death Valley, as the canyons glowed gold and music wafted from our car.
That I could no longer remember horrified me differently, but in the same way, as your death.
I remembered again, though, somewhere in my 4th year.
I remembered how to stand with you, as if your body were pressed against mine,
And raise my left hand to your broad shoulder…
Curl my fingers over your hand,
Clint Black…When I Said I Do…
Chicago…You’re the Inspiration…
Over and over again.
This night, as I remember what would be 30 years marriage…
Blended family, military life that took you away from me so often, scratching our pennies together, sitting on our swing in the back yard admiring our colorful gardens, retirement, traveling together in our last 4 years, that strong hand of yours on my leg, my hand on your arm as we sat a foot across from one another and explored and adventured…
This night, as I remember saying I do to my life with you, as you slipped a simple silver band on my finger…
You and I are dancing again, my feet moving in tandem with yours.
You are my heart, always.
We are dancing in the dark and starlit skies of the Universe.