Nothing about our story has gone as expected.
Nothing.
Admittedly, many of those unexpected turns have been unwanted.
We have had our fill of sadness, loss, disappointment, rage, and grief.
We have gotten more than our share of bad news.
For some reason, “lucky 13” can’t be any different.
I know you want me to stop staying “I’m sorry.”
But I can’t help myself because I am so very sorry it is happening this way.
I know it’s not my fault,
but damn.
Our anniversary is always wrapped in a weird cancer ribbon anyway,
white for lung cancer,
celebrating the birth of our marriage in June,
the death of your dad in August.
We sat in the pew where he sat to witness our vows,
to witness his memorial.
And now a pink ribbon is being woven into the fabric of our life
and I hate that it’s my ribbon.
I hate that my trauma is yours.
But I am thankful that you stay.
That you stand.
That you take my hand and walk.
That your words are, “you will never be alone.”
Some of the unexpected turns have been beautiful:
Edward
Charles
Alice
Our friendship that has grown deeper.
Finding a church family
and friends who are happy to be family too.
Throughout all of it,
we have woven our own threads of
trust, friendship, love, humility, generosity.
And finding it every single day for 13 years
is nothing short of a beautiful miracle.
But I think that is what good marriages are: beautiful miracles.
Ours is still so young,
but I promise to keep holding your hand,
seeking your friendship,
laughing with (and at) you,
and appreciating all you give and do for us,
for our team.
Happy Lucky 13, my love.
About Katie
