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.
Truly yours,
Summer
Summer’s Footprint:
“Oh Sweet Lorraine”-The story of a
love song written by a 96 years old man whose wife recently passed away. Enjoy.
