Sublime Devotion

Love can shine through even the darkest of times.

Her hand is warm...

Despite the cold, sterile air in the room, her hand remains warm. I rub my thumb over the top of her hand as I hold it and she replies with a weak yet still beautiful smile. I smile back and we share a moment of unspoken love so powerful it could be felt across the galaxy. Her smile is replaced with a grimmace as a sharp pain flairs across her chest, causing her to flinch and tighten her grip on my fingers. My eyes widen for a moment, and my mouth opens a small bit until she relaxes and stares back at me to let me know the pain has subsided. I gently raise her hand to my lips and kiss it as softly as I can, a gesture she appreciates greatly.

I can see the photograph of our honeymoon in Hawaii on the bedside table and an ocean of memories floods my mind. The flight from LAX was smooth and full of laughter and tiny liquor bottles. The couple across the aisle regailed us with stories of their previous trips to Hawaii and other remarkable destinations, to which we listened like eager children hearing of Christmas for the first time. In the hotel that night we shared each other in the finest night we have ever had together and in the morning we had breakfast on the balcony with a breathtaking view of the ocean before us. Her smile and joy that morning will be forever etched in the folds of my memory.

Looking away from our honeymoon photo, my gaze rests upon the window and I see the sun beginning to paint the sky a pinkish orange. The magnificent beauty strikes a chord in my heart and I travel back to a day I often go to, even though it destroys a tiny piece of my soul every time. I will never forget it, and neither will she.

The pinkish orange had been dabbed across the top of the sky, and stretched white clouds hung to accent it. We were not 60 yards from this very spot when it happened, not 60 yards from where our lives took a shallow breath and our hearts skipped a beat. 6 little letters, that seperately cause no damage, came together to from a truly destructive word that shredded our insides and fried our nerves: cancer...

It is nearly impossible to describe the feeling that enveloped the house in the following days. Phone calls from friends and relatives were ignored entirely, and a silence fell over the house that was only broken by a sniffle or the shuffling of bed sheets. The tears weren't wiped away, only left to roll down the flesh and into the pillows. I held her in my arms every day without saying a word. Then one day she rolled over, looked into my eyes and spoke in a whisper that ripped my heart in half and brought a torrential downpour to my eyes. "I...I don't want to die..." Her red eyes then let loose enough tears to fill a mason jar and I pulled her closer than I ever had before.

The treatments were rough, to say the least, but she powered through with a vigor that was mesmerizing to behold. A fire was lit in the pit of her soul and filled her with an insipid passion for life. The chemo irradiated her insides and thrashed her stomach to the verge of destruction. The pills made her head spin worse than any roller coaster ever could, then threw her equilibrium into disarray. Through all the pain and all the struggle she would not let her smile fade, she wore it as a veteran wears medals upon their dress blues.

One morning I awoke to the sound of buzzing and occasional whimpers. Set upon groggy feet and blurry eyes I came to the bathroom and saw long streaks of her golden hair strewn across the tile. Those beautiful green eyes were glistening with tears of anticipation and fear. Red marks dotted her now bald patches, the cause of the whimpers, and my electric razor shook in her timid hands. "What do you think?" Her voice trembled and I could only smile. "Could be worse." The joke put her at ease as I took the razor from her.

Bit by bit I pulled the razor across her head and we watched her magnificent hair fall. Her hair, that she had been so proud of since she was a child in beauty pageants, fell to the floor with the grace of a falling star. After the final hair had been removed we looked at the bleach blonde locks scattered on the tile, then slowly up into the mirror. Our eyes met and I could tell she was about to break down. I wrapped my arms around her waist and put my cheek to hers. "You still look amazing, babe." I whispered and literally felt her relax into my touch. I thought to myself that the worst was over, but I could not have been more wrong...

We were on the way home from a doctor's appointment that didn't go the way hope was placed and her attitude shifted on the drive. Her hope faded into a dismal anger and that adoring smile finally left her beautiful face. In the living room she made a comment on me leaving and I took it as going out for the night, so I said I had nowhere to go. The look on her face told me that she meant for good and my mind cracked like a thin sheet of glass. The following conversation still replays in my nightmares and tightens my stomach like a vice.

She explained how she had one foot out the door and how she would rather let me go than have me become worn down and forget who she was. She said the brightest stars cast the biggest shadows and she didn't want to lose me in the darkness. Her eyes, filled with a pain I could not describe if I had a million words, began to tear up and finally let loose with a seemingly never-ending stream of salty tears.

All words I could think of were locked in my throat and my mouth was left agape. Until she came forward and put her hand against my chest to push me toward the door, then I erupted and startled her. I tried to explain that I could never forget who she was because to me she was still the same girl I fell in love with in 8th grade and she always would be. I grabbed our honeymoon picture from the mantle and held it up to her. I asked if she remembered that week and what it meant to us, then she hit my hand, causing the picture fall and shatter against the fireplace.

She stepped back and put her hands over her mouth while I looked at the remnants of a perfect memory. "Is this what we're gonna be now, a ripped picture in a broken frame?" I asked with a shaky voice. "Because if so, I will leave. I'll take my memories and keep them with me. Sure, they may rip me apart, but I will never forget you." My words echoed in her mind and she realized that I was telling the truth, then she stepped over the broken glass, lept into my arms and we cried for what seemed like years.

The morning brought the intoxicating aroma of fresh bacon, eggs and pancakes. Hopping out of bed I made my way to the kitchen and saw my plate being set on the floral tablecloth. She looked up at me and her smile was better than any apology. After a quick kiss we sat down and shared a brief respite of normalcy. A respite we would've savored so much more if we knew what the ensuing days would bring. It was nearly a month later when the doctor called to set up an appointment. What appeared to be an average day at the doctor turned into the worst day of our lives.

"The treatments aren't going as hoped. The cancer is also spreading more rapidly than it was previously." The doctor's words sounded so hollow and empty, as if all hope and joy were eradicated. When I asked what were to happen next, he recommended she begin staying at the hospital for the foreseeable future. I looked at her and watched her face grow pale as the color drained from it. I had no idea what to say, and how could I? The doctor's next words would prove to be her breaking point: "We can make your last couple months as comfortable as possible."

Her eyes closed and opened rapidly, then she shook her head ever so slightly and held an arm out, which I held onto. The doctor realized what he said had upset her immensely and apologized for being so callous. She gripped my hand tight, tighter than she ever had before, and began to cry silent tears. The doctor offered us the room for as long as we needed and we accepted graciously. As soon as he left, my eyes met her's and I saw so much pain and sorrow that I almost couldn't bear to look. However I fought the unimaginable urge to look away and stared into the eyes of my wife. Pain turned to fear and fear gnawed at her like a thousand hungry rats. Comfort was beyond reach, no matter how much I tried, so I did all I could think of...I held her until she told me to stop.

The first room she was in was very plain and held a sense of dread that played tricks on the mind. She would toss and turn, as if she was trying to shrug off the feeling. That lasted three weeks, then she was placed in a room with a hideous seashell wallpaper and she told how she wished we had money to get her a different room. I sold stocks I was given from my grandfather to put her in the best room they had. A bed that didn't hurt, wallpaper that didn't churn the stomach, and a tv larger than the one in our entertainment room. I cannot describe the joy on her face when she first laid her weary eyes on the room. It was almost as if she had forgotten about her condition, if only for a moment, and that brought me a joy of my own. I couldn't help her very much, but I would be damned if I couldn't make her more comfortable.

Our time was then spent like that of a lazy teenager. We watched tv, played games and took naps whenever we wanted. She wasn't supposed to eat certain things but she would give me puppy dog eyes and I would cave every time. The nurse would find chilli cheese fry boxes and bacon burger wrappers in the trash but would only smile. We laughed, we cried, but most of all we never took a moment for granted. I will never look back on those days with regrets, and I know she wouldn't either. They were dark days, clouded by excruciating pain and the following numbness of medication but they gave us a sense of solidarity that takes years to achieve, if it can be achieved at all.

That brings us to now. The room is cold, but she remains tucked under her favorite zebra blanket. Her hand is warm in mine as we watch each other's faces, waiting for the other to blink. Eventually, she blinks and curses out loud with laughter. After another round, which I let her win, she says she's tired so I nod and prepare to sleep on the recliner I'm in. She keeps a grip on my fingers and asks me to lay on the bed with her. We've tried this before and it's a little uncomfortable for her, but she persists so I agree. "I just want you to be close to me tonight." She said.

I have to lay on my side with my head on her chest and let her arms drape over my back and shoulders. She runs her fingers through my hair and laughs at how I've let it go for a couple days too long, so I jokingly say "At least I have hair." She gasps and hits me on the head, then we laugh it off and I kiss her. I can still taste the salt of the forbidden fries on her lips. "I love you." She says with her astonishing smile. "I love you too." I reply with a smile that couldn't hold a candle to her's. A few moments later she falls asleep and I listen to her breathe. The rhythm of her heart thumps gently against my ear and the rise and fall of her chest soothes my mind. I could lay here forever if she asked me to.

The morning sun begins to rise over the mountains and it's early light shines through the window upon us. I lift my head to look at my wife and see her eyes still closed. I smile and slowly get off the bed and stretch the night away. I grab her hand to kiss it and notice that it's as cold as ice. I quickly look to her chest and see how still it is and my knees buckle beneath me. I hold her hand to my lips and feel my heart rip into pieces. Tears are now flowing from my eyes like an open faucet and my sobs echo throughout the room. I beg and plead for her to open her eyes and say "Ha! I got ya!" but she remains so very still. I try to stand but my legs won't move. Holding her hand, I whisper to anything or anyone that can hear me and I beg for her life. I feel my heart trying to beat out of my chest but I receive no reply other than the sound of my tears splashing against the bed rails.

Fear clinches my stomach and obliterates my mind. I can do nothing but hold her hand and weep into it. A nurse enters the room, most likely due to my sobs, and asks if I'm alright, then gasps rigidly and runs out of the room. When she returns, she's accompanied by a doctor and he runs to my wife's side and checks her. When he dips his head down, the nurse puts her hand over her mouth and begins crying. The doctor looks at me and says how sorry he is. I can't even look up at him to respond, I only nod slightly.

Another doctor comes in and they say they have to take her but I keep my grip firm. The nurse then comes to my side and rests her hands on my shoulders. She leans against me and asks me to let go, even though she knows it's hard. Something in her voice reminds me of my wife and causes me to let go. I watch as they take her away and I feel my life begin to unravel. The nurse holds me tight and doesn't say a word. I grab the picture of our honeymoon and rub my fingers over my wife's face, knowing I'll never see it alive again. Tears drip onto the glass and I wipe them away just as fast so I can still see her beautiful face.

"What was her name?" The nurse finally asks. "Rose..." I mutter in between sobs. "Her name was Rose..."