How can those last two sentences be in the same paragraph, in the same life, in my life?
We never could have predicted that just two years later Doug would be too weak to shower, too tired to leave the house, and too sick to eat or drink much of anything as his body began to shut down. We could not have predicted that the long life together we'd envisioned would be dramatically cut short or that we would look adoringly into each other's eyes, tears streaming down our cheeks, wishing he could stay.
When I gave my communication book the subtitle, Opening to Unlimited Love, it was because I had invested six years in developing my own understanding of what that meant and beginning to say YES! to unlimited love in my life. I had come to believe that unlimited love existed, in even the bleakest circumstance, and I was committed to being open to it in every way, including a romantic relationship. I am so glad I made that commitment, because it led to me being loved more purely, more playfully, and more adoringly than I had ever thought to wish for.
Doug Wilson loves me. And I love Doug Wilson. Our six short years together feel like only six deep breaths. But in these six years we have both experienced a quality of love, of loving and being loved, that I don't think most people ever do. I wish he could stay, that we could fulfill the dreams we've woven together. And, I choose to believe that his soul will be with me, that I will find a way to heal and grieve and talk with him in spirit, even though he'll be partying with the angels. I know he'll be kissing my face and rooting me on just the same.
Yes, Doug and I really, really love each other. And yes, his body is dying.