All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
She repeated the facts to herself. The last words her husband may ever say were I want to be home with me Emmy. He begged to come home. He said he wanted to be with her, his Emmy. She knew he was dying. The disease had taken hold of his body. At first there was hope. They would laugh about it as the sang The Remedy and he would say ive got the poison baby and she said and I got the remedy. And he would kiss her lightly and say I love you my Emmy. My Emmy. No one else would ever call her my Emmy. No one. And then things got worse. He was tired. He was in and out of the hospital. He told her she could leave, but she refused. She would hold on til is dying breath she said. He promised her she would have to wait a long time and smiled while she quietly let a tear or two drop. He would wipe it away and say don’t worry my Emmy. His voice saying my Emmy would never leave her mind. And then he went into the hospital permanently. He was stuck with needles, hooked to tubes, and had a sallow, drawn back expression and he was paler then a ghost. He was sick. She knew it. She had to accept it. She would lay in bed and his voice saying my Emmy would run through her head and she would cry because she knew he would never come home, no matter how many times he promised. She had no kids. She was 29. And she had never known love from anyone but him. Her Mike.
She had heard the doctor, but she didn’t want to. 3 months. The doctor had given her beautiful, strong, gracious, loving, amazing husband three months to be with her. Three months to live. And he could die before that. You couldn’t put a time on a life. It just didn’t work that way. She tried to blame herself, blame his parents, but there was no one to blame. This was no ones fault. She couldn’t be mad at anyone. She just laid in her own sorrow.
Ken showed up two days after the brutal announcement. He was a carpenter, their best man, and her best friend. He slept on the couch and ate pop tarts. He drove her to the hospital and sat with her for hours. He made her get dressed everyday and helped her get to work. He was so there. He promised her she would never see him cry. She barely heard him.
Weeks passed and Mike got no better. Emily dragged herself to the hospital everyday. For awhile he seemed to be comfortable. He woke up whenever Emily walked in the room. He was eating though minimally. He was taking death with grace. But he started to slip. He rarely woke up. He was attached to constant iv’s to keep him fed. He couldn’t even get up to go to the bathroom. Eventually he became so bad that there was little left of the Mike Emily had loved so much. She now knew two different men. One was lying on the bed before her, barely alive. One was forever trapped in her head.
The doctor told her that if he ever woke up, he would ask him if he wanted to go home. Emily wanted that so much. And yet it would kill her. She would have to care for him 24/7 and Ken didn’t know if it was a good idea. But Emily persisted.
He had wanted so much to die at home. In his own bed. And he got his wish.
Ken spent long hours in Mike’s room trying to figure out what to do. He had always loved Emily, but she was so happy with Mike that he couldn’t ever say it. Mike had known, but had taken Emily with pride and Ken had remained a slight background character. He sat at mike’s bedside and asked him if he should take Emily for himself now. If he should even say it. He let the tears fall.
And one day Emily came home early. She heard Ken talking to Mike. She walked in. And Ken didn’t even notice. He went on
“Mike, I don’t know man. You’re my best friend, and you know I’ve loved her for so long, but I don’t know if she would even let me in. She’s my best friend, and she needs someone. Man, she needs someone to hold her at night while her sobs rack her room. She needs someone to tell her I love you every morning. But man, is it me? Your slowly dying, and I’m permanent. Ill be here. You wont. Man what do I do?
Emily walked over to Ken now. She placed her hand over his. He held her as she wiped her dying husbands face.
Emily woke up that morning and noticed Ken next to her. She felt so happy for a split second and then she realized that he wasn’t her husband, and her husband was dying one room down the hall. She slowly removed herself from the blankets and walked down the hallway. She grabbed the sponge from the bathroom and began to sponge her husbands face when his eyes opened for the last time. “Go to him my Emmy. Let him hold you, Hell never hurt you. I love you, my Emmy.’ And his eyes closed and he was gone.
Emily’s sobs and screams woke Ken with s start, He ran into the room. “Emily, what wrong, what happened”
Emily couldn’t make out the words. She fell to the floor. Ken realized that Mike his best friend was dead.
He broke his promise. Right there he let the tears fall. Both of them laid on the floor and sobbed over the lose of Mike. And yet…
They held each other.