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'Til Death Do Us Start
A story of grief and marriage…
My wife crumpled to the floor.
I had just told her that the woman who helped raise her, who was a constant presence of grace, and who was the first family member to whom Sarah introduced me had died. My mother-in-law relayed the news to me over the phone as I lunged downward to catch my wife.
Rosemary was not Sarah’s aunt by blood, but that never made any difference that wasn’t clerical. That’s what we called her — Aunt Rosemary. Talking to her for a few minutes would restore anyone’s faith in the goodness of humanity. She wasn’t just one of the good ones. She was at the top of the list.
Now she was gone.
I instantly went into support mode. As a husband, my default setting in difficult scenarios is to try to understand how to fix it. How can I make my wife feel better? How can I solve the problem? Though it was never spoken audibly between us, we both knew.
There is no fixing this.
Of course it can’t be fixed! You can’t replace someone who made your life what it is. Rosemary was gone. She was just…gone. And yet, that didn’t change the…
