Forever and Always Part 3

Everything was ready. A boy with a bald head and a wide smile, who had volunteered for a job, held a nice puffy pillow that belonged to his little sister. She was standing by his side in the nicest clothes she could find in her bag: her one pair of un-ripped jeans and a flowery blouse she used only for “fancy days”. Resting on the pillow the boy was holding was the ring that had given me the idea in the first place. Next to it was a matching ring that belonged to Ellie’s husband, Nate.

We were only borrowing them. But, as the chaplain that had volunteered his services said, “What’s a wedding without the rings?”

I didn’t have any other clothes. So, I slipped into the room, soft music playing over the hospital speakers, in my worn out sweats and my Love Pink sweatshirt. One nurse, who I’ve forgotten the name of now, did my hair and make-up so quickly it felt like only a couple seconds had passed. She smiled at my amazement and said, “Honey, when you work in a hospital, you’ve got to learn to be fast.”

So now, as I walked behind my little ring bearer and his ecstatic sister to my fiancée’s bedside, I smiled, knowing that no matter what I looked like he’d still love me anyway. How did I know that? Because I felt the same way. Wires were floating in the air everywhere around him and the elegant piano music on the speakers was interrupted constantly by the welcome beeping of the heart monitor. His face was starting to shadow with the hint of hair growing back since he shaved last, but he was still the most breathtaking person I’d ever seen. He was all I ever wanted in life. And look at me now. I was walking down the aisle to him. Even if it was a doorway instead of an aisle.

The chaplain stood on the opposite side of his bed. I grabbed my love’s hand and he gripped my fingers tightly in his own.  It probably cost him a lot of strength, just that one action, but frankly, I could care less. And it seemed like he thought the same thing.

We started to say our vows and as the “I Do’s” began, so did the tears. I heard the kids giggling when their mom teared up at the sight of us. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered one of the audience pulling out a tissue, one of them sniffling, one of them brushing a stray tear from their cheek. But I was too focused on those icy-blue eyes of his, the ones I’d fallen for the moment I saw him.

I felt my own tears well up in my eyes as I looked into his. I opened my mouth and whispered the words that meant so much to both of us, that would always be true. “I want you forever, forever and always,” I took another deep breath so my words could be heard. “Through the good and the bad and the ugly. We’ll grow old together, and always remember,” I choked up at this part, a lump forming in my throat that I tried to fight back so I could finish, “whether happy or sad or whatever…we’ll still love each other…forever and always.”

At the end of my vows I noticed how his eyelids kept dropping slightly, but then he’d shake himself, almost unnoticeably, and focus his eyes on me again. He smiled widely at the end, with his sleepy eyes and his bandaged body; the smile didn’t help much to erase the growing lump in my throat. Especially as the beeps from the machine behind the chaplain slowed.

The beeps were almost too slow, and his voice was almost too low, as he said, “I will love you forever, forever and always. Please just remember, even if I’m not there. I’ll always love you…forever and always.”

His eyes closed slowly as the chaplain said, “you may kiss the bride,” I planted a gentle kiss on his still smiling lips.

***Present Day***

Peter is calling me. His voice echoes through my mind like a wonderful melody and I smile to myself. He planned a huge picnic for our anniversary. The kids were coming, of course, so we had to pick a park to visit. Now I’m sitting on the bench, watching him wave at me as the kids tease each other, playing some odd mix of tag and hide-and-seek that nobody but them understands. Their laughter adds to his melody and the song stays with me as I walk over, gently mussing our boy’s hair.

They continue to play until we hear a thump, then the beginning of a cry. Peter and I both turn, but he beats me too her. She’s scraped her knee falling on the rough gravel of the sidewalk. She sniffles and looks up at Peter with tears sparkling on her lashes. Then, Peter bends down and places a gentle kiss on her scrape. “I’m okay now,” she says, getting up to play with her brother on the swings.

“Thank goodness!” he calls after her, “what would I do without my little Angel?