Living the Vows

 

For 40 years, you and I have been an “Us”. Statistics would say we were a high improbability  but it  seems we have been inseparable ever since. 38 years ago I stood across from you in the First Baptist Church in Santa Anna, in front of our family and friends and we said the words that would shape the rest of our lives:

“To have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health…”

Back then, we were just two kids in love—clueless, penniless, full of grit and determination to do better and maybe a little too young to fully understand what those promises would come to mean.

But now, after four decades… I understand.

We’ve seen the “for worse.” We’ve lived through it. A war that stole you from home while I was pregnant with our first child, if only for a while. Grief that came in waves as we said goodbye to our parents. Times when we weren’t sure how we were going to pay the bills or keep the lights on.

But even in those moments, we had something unshakable—we had each other.

And then came the good. The real good. Our babies. God, I still see their tiny hands, their first steps. Our daughter with her wild heart and our son with his quiet strength, both with that Casey stubbornness …both grown up to be really great humans.  And now—our grandbabies. Two of them. Our house is full of laughter again, of little feet and chocolate milk and pictures of cows.

We built a life. A real one. From the ground up. It’s not perfect, it’s not always pretty but it’s ours! It’s a story only you and I can really appreciate. 

And now… this.

Cancer.

The word tastes bitter, no matter how I say it. And yes, I’m scared. Terrified, some days. But I look at you—and you’re still you. Still strong, still stubborn, still making jokes when no one else dares to. You still kiss me goodbye every morning, and you still  thank me when I cook you dinner at night, even after 40 years.

But here’s what I want you to know:

Cancer isn’t going to take this life we’ve built. We still have another 40 years of stories to add to it. And I meant every vow, every word, every promise.

In sickness and in health isn’t just a line in a ceremony—it’s the way I’ve loved you every single day, and the way I’ll keep loving you through every appointment, every treatment, every hard moment.

We’ve faced so much already, and we’ve never done it alone. We won’t start now.

You are still my heart. Still my home.

Still the boy I fell in love with, and the man I thank God for every day.

So today, I say it again—

I choose you.

I always have.

I always will.

To have and to hold.

Still.

Always.