I, take you, to be my lawfully wedded husband,...
They were childhood friends from The Neighborhood. She was the youngest of 5 siblings and he was the middle child of 7 siblings. She was Irish and Catholic. He was German and Protestant. Love blossomed anyway on the streets of Philadelphia by way of Depression-era games such as Kick the Can.
When he was 19 and she was 18, they eloped to Elkton, Maryland. There had been no engagement; their families did not approve. They both snuck out of their parents’ houses. It was quite unromantic. A simple gold band and a paper certificate made it official. After the ceremony, they returned to their own families, hiding the fact that they’d gotten married just hours earlier.
When their marriage was discovered, their families warned them that it wouldn’t last. He was forbidden to see her until he rebelled in an uncharacteristic way. He left home and rented an apartment. Finally, they could be together as man and wife.
To have and to hold, for better or for worse,....
Through the years, they raised a family comprised of two boys and a girl. He built their house with his bare hands on a piece of land they’d purchased for $2,000.
They lived a simple life. He was a carpenter, she was a homemaker. They vacationed at a cabin in the mountains.
Their children grew up, got married, and had children of their own. There were no prouder grandparents anywhere. They bought a travel trailer and went camping, bringing the grandchildren along.
For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish...
She started to not feel well but ignored it. She wouldn’t have gone to a doctor at all except that her periods of sickness were interfering with her camping. He was with her when she got the news: colon cancer.
He vowed to take care of her, and he did. He stayed with her during the chemotherapy. He grocery shopped and cleaned house while she slept, sick, from so much poison in her body. He cleaned up after her when she’d gotten sick. He cooked dinner, even if he didn’t exactly know how. When he felt overwhelmed, he ordered take-out. Most of all, he made sure that she knew she was loved.
It seemed as if the cancer was retreating. She was feeling a bit better... until that day when she wasn’t. More tests. A CAT scan. An MRI. A biopsy. Then the news: the cancer had spread to her liver. She was given three months at worst, nine months at best.
From this day forward...
Although she proved the doctors wrong and lived for three years, those years were not easy ones. So many tests, so many doctors, so much medication, so much sickness. Which was worse, the cancer, or the treatment? She received hospice care. Still, he stayed with her and took care of her. He never complained because he’d made a promise to her over 50 years ago.
until death us do part.
One day, she woke up feeling better than she had in years. She was so excited that she cleaned the windows and cooked dinner. She’d been given the gift of a last good day.
Not 24 hours later, she lay in a bed in a darkened hospital room. She was in a coma, induced by the morphine that dripped steadily into her veins. Her closed eyes and irregular breath signaled that not much time was left. Her family surrounded her in hushed, expectant waiting.
Her small body rested on its side against the bedrail. One of her hands draped over the top of it, not holding on, just resting there. Suddenly, the silence was interrupted by a metallic "kerchink" sound. Her daughter, standing on the side of the bed closest to her mother's hands, stooped down to see what fell. It was her mother’s wedding ring; that same simple gold band that she’d worn for 56 years, on fingers crippled and bent with arthritis. Remarkably, the ring had simply fallen off her finger.
Her breathing became shallow. He kissed her, one final time, and told her he loved her. Her body released its final breath just moments after the ring had fallen off her finger. It was her final loving gesture. She was gone, and he was released in "death us do part".
In Memory of my mother-in-law, Claire Spencer Kern 9/24/1930 – 3/18/2005
Comments
Suzy
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Many thanks for your kind comments.
A beautiful, sad story; beautifully and lovingly told.
Thank you for showing us what love is.
High Lonesome, Roger, and Liz - I am thrilled to see you here - thank you so much!
Sally - Thank you! That's high praise coming from someone who knows how to craft a beautiful love story (I loved your Mom's story!)
hyblaen - Thank you so much. I really appreciate it. :)
LuluandPhoebe - Indeed, life is fragile and short. Thank you for stopping by to read and comment.
Mindy - I appreciate your kind words. :)
David - I agree: a marriage lasting more than 50 years - 50 YEARS! - is a colossal feat. I appreciate your kind words.
Marple - Aw, thank you so much! :)
This should join your other editors' picks.
Of course, I'd like to think that there's no such thing as "death do us part" for every loving thought is eternal, and a lifetime of love will surely last forever.
D
Thank you for writing it and sharing it with us. (rated)
Thank you for sharing this touching portrait of your MIL.
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I feel for your loss. My own mother-in-law has had cancer for nearly a decade but the last thing that I'd do is write about it here except to maybe get more recognition for her rare form of cancer. She has dealt with her illness with incredible courage and selflessness. Sice we all probably face a similar fate, I only hope to meet my demise with such grace and humour.
I'm sure to make more friends here but can people write about more joyous things than 'so and so died'... Death is a personal thing to me. Maybe Open needs to have an obituary section or something.
There just have been so many... It's getting morose and morbid...
cartouche - I appreciate your compliment, especially coming from such a talented writer as yourself.
jimmymac - Thank you so much! I really appreciate your kind words.
Chicago Guy - I'm thrilled to see you here. Thank you for reading my story.
Umbrella - You're making me blush! Thank you so much. You're the best.
Lisa - I agree; they were lucky to have each other. My story is a bit one-sided but she certainly gave a lot to him over the years, as it should be.
O'Kathryn- What a treat to see you here! Thank you for the compliments on my writing.
Redstocking Grandma - What nice words! You've made my day. :)
If you take the time to read my other posts, you'll see that I am primarily a humor writer. I value life and joy and levity and optimism. Sometimes, however, other stories need to be told. I'm sorry you were disappointed in this one.
Death is part of life. Last time I checked we are all going to do it. How we handle the death of loved ones and our own death says much about how well we live or have lived our lives.
Your in laws handled it all with grace.
You wrote a life story, not a death story. And it is beautiful.
Monte
Thanks
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Lisa in Wisconsin – Wow, thank you! I’m so glad that you found meaning in their story.
JL – I’m sorry for the tears, but appreciate your kind words.
Jimmymac – You get it! Thank you for deriving from the story what I was trying to convey. By the way, I’ve read your lighter piece and you are totally selling yourself short. I expect that soon it will enjoy a much larger audience.
Monte – I am thrilled to see you here. Your comment really touched me. I’m happy that you found the message, too. You’re right: it IS a life story. Thank you so much for taking time to read and leave such a beautiful response.
Zumi – Thank you so much!
ConnieMack and Laurel, not Lauren - Wow! Thank you but I'm not sure I'm deserving of such high praise. I appreciate both of you taking time to read and comment.
Denise - I'm happy that you enjoyed my story. I appreciate your kind words very much.
First, I completely agree with what others have said about this--this is a story of a life together. It is the life that made it beautiful and tear-worthy, otherwise the death scene would have meant little.
Gonzoid, if you don't like stories about death, don't read them. It's as simple as that. There are plenty of humorous posts on OS, so stick to them. Same-same, if you don't like posts about pets, or dating, or romance, or politics, or whatever--don't read them. No one is holding a gun to your head.