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A Moment Too Soon

I held onto her tightly with my left hand. Wanting to take the fall, she begged me to let go; I wasn’t ready. The agonizing tears induced the pounding in my head. I felt sick, but through the pain and sorrow, my head told me it was the honourable thing to do. I gave her my word that I would follow through no matter how much it hurt. Reluctantly, I loosened my grip. Then before I could fully process what I had done, she was free. The wind embraced her as she was taken from my moist palm. I watched as she gave a goodbye kiss to the ring she had once placed on my finger. I pictured the aisle, her smile, her glowing red hair. I had fallen for her, she had fallen for me, and then before I knew it she was slipping through my fingers, literally.

As a twenty-eight year old, I was spreading my wife’s ashes sooner than I would have ever dreamed. My marriage to Emma was short and we spent the majority of that time in room 308. It wasn’t our apartment number or a favourite hotel room, but rather a hospital chamber that housed the worst moments of my life.

It was the winter of ’92 on one of the coldest days I can remember. After a long evening of reading by the fire and sipping away on hot chocolate, our bodies were warm as we settled into our bed. The sheets felt cool against my skin as I moved closer to the woman of my dreams. I pulled her towards my chest and I felt the familiar comfort of her lavender silk night slip.

I slid the fabric off of her and we rose like the wind and fell like the snow. As we tossed and turned, I couldn’t stop thinking how lucky of a man I was to have such a beautiful woman in my arms. From the moment we met, I knew Emma was special; she made me feel like I never had before and gave me a sense of security. Making love with Emma felt easy and right, and in that moment everything seemed perfect.

I passionately ran my fingers through her hair and caressed softly down her body. Suddenly my hand felt frozen in time as I reached her breast. Something was wrong and I knew Emma could tell by the frantic look in my eyes. Neither of us spoke for what seemed like an eternity and when I finally found my voice, the words escaped me.

The three scariest words that I have ever heard confirmed my worst nightmare, “you have cancer.” I wasn’t willing to believe it nor could I look my wife in the eyes. The rest was simply a blur, as the doctor explained possible procedures and tests. I traveled to my own world, where cancer was a far off thought.

Over the next five months, I became accustomed to the way the oncology ward worked – when it was time to take blood, when it was time to eat. The nurses knew me by name and often commented on how strong Emma was and how she took every piece of bad news with a smile knowing that it was all she could do. She was still able to look at life in the most uncomplicated way and found pleasure in the smallest of things. With her optimistic outlook on the situation and on life, I thought she would live forever.

Although Emma will always remain alive in spirit and in my heart, her physical presence is now nothing but gray powdery remains. Throughout our time together, my independent wife asked very little of me until she knew it was almost time to leave. It was then that she requested that I fulfil one of her dreams. Once Emma had been gone for a few months and the support from others began to fade, reality started to set in; I knew it was time to carry out her last wish.

Surrounded by a sea of white and blue-roofed buildings on the hills of Santorini, I watched part of her fly away. The smell of the gardens was appealing, music creeping up the small streets was soothing, and the cool fresh breeze was relaxing. Everything around me was captivating, but I could only focus on my wife as she took her last waltz to the ground. It was a dreamlike moment when Emma finally touched the soil she had always wanted to meet.

“I love you,” I whispered as the last tear streamed down my cheek. I could feel her around me as the sun shone down and the water ahead glistened. For the first time in months I found myself smiling; Emma was happy.

At one point or another in our lives we will all encounter joy. In those moments we may wish that time could just stand still so we could eternally revel in everything that’s right, everything we live for, everything we love. But what we should learn instead is to cherish the instants where everything seems perfect, because soon we realize that time doesn’t wait for anyone.