A year ago today was to be my Resplendent Bride’s new birthday.
My Resplendent Bride had piercing green eyes, which betrayed everything she ever felt.
Her case manager explained the day she received her bone marrow transplant would be her new birthday.
Danielle was innocent; she was childlike. Always was. Always will be.
Her eyes lit up whensoever she spoke of her love for the holidays… and Italian Ice.
The prospect of having two birthdays filled those green eyes with contagious joy.
And I remember how those green eyes looked one dreary November evening at UNMC as the radiologist told her the heartbreaking news that the Lymphoma she was receiving radiation for had morphed into Acute Myeloid Leukemia.
I remember everything.
Yet I can’t remember enough.
The Doctor was a kind soul. At some point he stopped talking medical and commented, “I never noticed how green your eyes are.”
I always noticed.
She was wearing my favorite sweater of hers: a simple green affair with three gold buttons on one shoulder. It made her eyes undeniable.
We sat in the car and she cried into my shoulder, and not for the first nor last time asked, “Why?”, until she said she was cold. We drove home to The Hermitage in order to start the arduous task of calling everybody, once more.
A bone marrow transplant was her only hope. Months of chemo ensued. Months of mouth and throat sores caused my Resplendent Bride to waste away into a living skeleton. I kept track of her caloric intake and fed her through a tube until she was strong enough for transplant.
I love her.
One year ago today My Resplendent Bride received a bone marrow transplant from some dear soul whom I will never know this side of eternity, and whomever they are, and wheresoever they are: Thank You.
The future was so bright we had to wear shades.
The carrot on the stick ever before us was not merely life, but life together.
On April 1st life together was within our grasp. On May 3rd her Resplendence was enveloped in the presence of the God who dwells in unapproachable light.
I am left here walking these sacred hills and hollows with the dread conviction that most people whom opine upon the mysterious sovereignty of God haven’t the foggiest notion of what they speak.
And, I mark the passage of time.
I mark her birthday.
I mark her transplant day.
I mark our wedding day.
I mark the 3rd of every month… as one more month without her.
April 3rd marks 11 months without her, and you’ll understand if I seem quite shocked that the world continues to spin unencumbered through the darkness of space.
11 months falls upon Good Friday this year.
1 year falls upon a Sunday. Usually I would climb up into the august pulpit of the 1st Christian Church of Glenwood, Iowa, but not that Sunday. No, that Sunday I’ll be in St. Louis, where I buried my heart.
I’ll be in St. Louis where I buried my wedding ring.
I’m going to sit by her grave and dream of Resurrection Day.
Perhaps her friends will join me.
On Resurrection Day she may well leave our wedding rings behind.
We’ll be onto the next, greatest adventure, together.
“Beloved, now we are children of God, and it has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is.”
~ 1st John 3:2 (NASB)
He Is Risen.
He Is Risen Indeed.
World Without End,