An anniversary not to be

This week my parents would have celebrated their 41st anniversary. Last year, Dad was in the hospital, barely hanging on to life, a hulking ventilator lurking in the corner of the room, breathing for him. The fact that it was their 40th anniversary was the only reason why I had wanted him to hang on for dear life. I knew it was important for Mom to mark that day with Dad still alive. The hospital staff had called us a few days before, asking for permission to “pull the plug.”

Dad was under conscious sedation, so I certainly don’t think he had any idea we were celebrating their 40th wedding anniversary. The hospital staff brought Mom a slice of cake from the cafeteria to mark the special day. Mom read aloud the message in the anniversary card she had bought for Dad. It had a picture of a wine bottle on it. The card’s message read:

“Being in love with you has a wonderful way of making a world that makes sense.”

Mom added: “Pat, today is our 40th anniversary. You have been a wonderful husband and companion to me and I treasure you.”

Mom had the card cremated with Dad, as her final message to her mate of 40 years.