I celebrated fifteen years as married this past weekend. We went to the Swedish Island Gotland for four days, enjoying medieval culture, Spa and fantastic food.
When me and my husband met for the first time, It was the same day my father died.
Me, my sister and mother had lived in the city hospital a few days to make sure that his last days were as free of pain as possible. He died early in the morning on a beautiful Swedish summer day. And when he died, it was a relief. We could breathe again. The constant concern for his health was over after a ten-year period. And now it was gone with the warm summer wind. We went separate ways outside the hospital and life continued.
Later that day, I was a babysitter for my friends children and took them to a carnival. And there he was. We had mutual friends so we were introduced and he asked for my phone number. Later that evening we had our first date.
This summer it’s eighteen years since that date. So he has never met my dad and his relationship with Alzheimer’s is his grandmother. She was 85 years old. It scares me because I know what awaits him and what he and my daughters need to go through. I have given him the choice to leave. But he says he is here for the good times and the bad ones.
I knew the day I met him that he was one of the good guys. And I’m lucky to have him by my side. For better and for worse, in good times and the bad.
