An Obituary For The Only Woman I Ever Truly Loved

I have never written an obituary.

I have never wanted to.

Especially not for my lover, my partner, and the only woman I ever really loved.

I met Lorena about two years ago.

She told me on our first date that she was a “house woman,” meaning she liked to spend time at home, knit, crochet, and wasn’t much of a traveler except to the beach now and then. She was refreshingly honest saying she was not looking to date or party but to find “my life partner.” She had been divorced 10 years after what sounded to be a tough 27 year marriage. .

We continued dating and over a year or so I felt something for her like no other woman I had ever met. She filled a hole in my heart I didn’t even know existed. We didn’t have a lot to talk about or many common interests, but we became inseparable.

A few months ago we decided to move in together and began looking at homes. None were quite right until we walked Into a French contemporary in the countryside outside San Miguel de Allende and she looked at me and said, “This would be my dream home.”

I bought it two weeks later and we moved in about six weeks ago. We made life plans and began changing a few things knowing this would be our forever home.

Three weeks ago I notíced she was having difficulty making it up the stairs and streets without losing her breath. One test led to another and quickly to the dreaded diagnosis: “leukemia.”

She made it through a week of chemotherapy successfully completely eliminating the cancer. But without the white blood cells to fight infection that chemo also destroys, she contracted one that killed her in three short days.

Lorena used to ask me, “Will you love me forever?” and I would always say, “Yes, baby, of course.”

I didn’t how little time forever would be.

The last night in our own bed together before entering the hospital she whispered to me, “I am asking God for five more years with you. This is how life is supposed to be lived - in love.”

She also told me that night that if she did not survive that she would wait for me on the other side. And while I am not a religious person, I know she is waiting. She is waiting for me. And I know that I will join her, the sooner, the better. If there was any justice in this world, I would have died in that ICU bed. Instead, I am left alone with an unbearable absence of hope at least for this lifetime.

Lorena, my dearest love, wherever you are, I will love you forever. And I will see you again and we will be together forever and ever. Until then, I will hold you in my heart and cherish every minute we had together, your kindness, your love of home and your children and grandchildren and your loving gentleness and compassion for me.

I love you my baby girl.

Postscript: Maybe I will take up writing obituaries. If so, I hope mine is next. The Buddha was right when he observed that “Man’s biggest mistake is believing he has more time.”

Comments

  1. She was beautiful, and so was your time with her.

    Back last January, when you wrote https://slouchingintooblivion.blogspot.com/2022/01/the-hospital-waiting-room.html, you knew and she knew, even though you didn’t know what exactly that it was that you knew at the time, just because the knowing is buried deep within, but you were connecting with what would lie ahead.

    "Then I stop and put my arms around my girl and hold her tight. She is uncomfortable with the public display of affection.

    “Why now?” she asks.

    “Because now is all there is,” I whisper into her ear. “Is there something more important you would like to do?“ I pull back to see her face.

    She smiles.

    “No, nothing. Nothing at all.”

    ReplyDelete

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