A lot of times, I have many strange thoughts. For some reasons bewildered to me, the concept of death is as real as my own shadow. “Who is going to die first? Vincent or me?” “Who is going to handle better after one of us die?” "What will my own funeral look like?” Graveyard is not my type. I would rather have my children scattered my ashes in Grand Canyon to remind them that human is so insignificant compare to the awestruck wonders of nature and the creator of universe.
The wedding vow is a little blurry to me, I have to admit. Memories of the wedding day are not so durable. However, I can still recall the feelings like yesterday when Vincent first held my hand in a mall. My heart beat so fast that zero gravity was not too hard to imagine. The same racing heart could also caught in the moment and led to rampageous actions such as storming out of the room and driving 90 miles per hour when we argued. Fortunately, I just did it once and realized I have too much to lose in engaging in this type of actions. Every couple has their ups and downs and we are no exceptions. But what will happen one day if I find myself waking up with no one sleeping beside me? Like getting married and having a honeymoon, dying and being left behind are one of the stages we will go through down the road. It is just part of the marriage deal. To die is easy, but to live meaningfully is the toughest part for the loved one who is left behind. After much contemplation, I told Vincent that it’s my hope that he dies before me because I can survive better if I am left behind. Of course, assumption is a freelancer of the mind until it is smashed by the unrelenting reality.
In the movies, the characters always wait till their last breath and utter their shivering words of “I…. love….. you……” I am not going to wait till my last breath?! Are you kidding me? On a more practical level, writing makes it easily assessable so that my husband (H) can read it whenever he feels disheartened, thinking what did he get himself into, when things are not up to par, or simply, whenever he pleases.
Dear Mr. H,
The bible says, “That is why a man leaves his father and mother and is united to his wife, and they become one flesh” I try to think what does one flesh mean. Is it two people being duct taped together for the rest of the life? That would be so hopeless- hopeless to be bound together due to reasons other than love and commitment. Then I remember the process of pearl making:
“The formation of a natural pearl begins when a foreign substance slips into the oyster between the mantle and the shell, which irritates the mantle. It's kind of like the oyster getting a splinter. The oyster's natural reaction is to cover up that irritant to protect itself. The mantle covers the irritant with layers of the same nacre substance that is used to create the shell. This eventually forms a pearl.”
Mr. H, I feel like I am the foreign substance in your life. No doubt, I did a fairly good job in irritating and annoying you (and vice versa) through the years. However, your endless layers of patience and understanding gradually transform me to a pearl. Can’t say that I become perfect (actually I never attempt to become one), but definitely a better person. Thank you for your shell of anchor, which allows me to shine bravely in your heart.
I love you.
“Oh Sweet Lorraine”-The story of a love song written by a 96 years old man whose wife recently passed away. Enjoy.