The Promise

“Will you still love me if I get breast cancer and they cut off my boobs and my hair falls out?”

I should have known better than to ask the question, but I was insecure in our young relationship, and I craved the constant reassurance. Of course he put my fears to rest, along with all the other worst case scenarios I could think up.

Neither one of us imagined how quickly he would be called on to honor that promise.

And he did – he does every day.

With each step in the process – the diagnosis, the mastectomy, my hair falling out, the day he shaved my head – I braced myself for a hesitation, a pause, an ever-so-slight withdrawal. But it never happened. In fact, it was just the opposite. I think we are closer now, more in love, than we were before.

Six years ago today we stood under a tree and vowed to love each other for richer or for poorer, through sickness and in health. Damn if we didn’t nail poorer and sickness. But I wouldn’t dream of spending this time with anyone else.

You might think that with the cancer diagnosis and six months of treatment so far, this year was the worst of my life. It wasn’t. Not by a long shot. That dubious distinction is reserved for my years at Valley Christian School. This past year, cancer included, counts among the best years of my life. And that is because of my husband – and my baby girl.

Happy Anniversary, Sweety. I love you so much.

Now let’s go get some happy meals.

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