The sky was colored a brilliant red orange with subtle purple hues as the sun said its farewell. As I looked out over the railing of our summer cottage deck, a tear ran down my cheek. It was twenty years today that I had lost my first husband. We weren't married in the traditional sense but so united were we in mind body and spirit that it would have been tragic not to consider him my husband.
Every year at this time I returned to our cottage with my current husband Ryan. We've been married almost thirteen wonderful years. I love Ryan, heart and soul but forever in my heart would be a place for my Isaac, and Ryan didn't begrudge me this love. He knew how much I loved him and nothing could ever come between us.
He was such a wonderful loving man that at this moment, Ryan was inside cooking me his special recipe for heart ache relief, homemade mac and cheese, fried chicken, green bean casserole and for dessert, my favorite, molten lava cake. The smell wafted out of the kitchen window, wrapping me in a comforting blanket of olfactory bliss. I loved that man. He always knew just what I needed when I was blue.
Smiling, I closed my eyes. Without his love, I don't know how I would get though this day. Actually, I do because before I met him this day was spent in misery, typically drunk, and crying until my voice was hoarse and I was physically sick. Time has been kind to me though, dulling the rough edges, leaving me with the sweet loving nostalgia of my lost love. As if it was yesterday, the memories of the day he died surfaced, but unlike when it happened, this memory was tender, sweet.
...He had made the decision days earlier that he wanted to die at home and with the doctor's permission, checked out of the hospital. I was in the kitchen fixing him some broth to soothe his dry aching throat when I heard him coughing. My gut clenched at the sound but it would pass, just as it always did, except this time it didn't. After a couple minutes I began to panic. Dropping the bowl I was holding, I ran up to our room.
My beautiful husband was wracked with pain as a coughing spell gripped him tightly. Going to his side, I soothed his sweat soaked blonde curly hair back from his face. He looked up at me with his green brown eyes. They held so much love even though he was in such pain. Time passed and eventually he quieted.
"Rest, my love while I go get your soup," I said as I laid the gentlest of kisses on his moist brow.
"Don't leave me," he begged.
"I'll be right back," I promised.
"No, please," he paused to take in a raspy breath, "I am going fast, love, I can feel it."
"Shhh, baby, shhh. Don't talk like that, my love. You've just had a bad episode. It'll pass soon," I said with tears in my eyes. It was all I could do not to break down crying. He was so weak, so tired of fighting and something in his eyes told me that he was right. He wouldn't make it the night.
"Do something for me," he said softly.
"Of course, anything."
"Make love to me," he asked weakly.
"You're too weak, Isaac, please my love, you have to rest," I implored him.
"Please, Jay. I need this. I have to know the feel of your body one more time," he begged.
He looked so thin, so frail. Gone was the strong virile man who once owned Vibe personal training. Gone was his rich olive completion, I loved so much. His skin was grey, sickly, but still he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.
Even as I look down at him, noting his pallor, I stripped my clothes off quickly, never taking my eyes from him. With a shaky hand, he reached up taking my manhood in his cold hand. I shivered, but not from the cold. His touch always elicited that reaction from me. Blood filled my shaft, bringing it to attention in his touch.
