The following I drafted a few weeks before our 10-year anniversary trip.

Nope, not a clue.  All I know is we’re leaving Friday morning.

I’ve joked with Chris for years about surprising me with a trip: not telling me where we’re going, just tell me how to pack.  His response has always been the same:  rolling of eyes, reminders of what a “joy” I am in the days before departure (as evidenced by my packing behavior here), how he can’t keep a secret, etc.

But it’s happening.  He told me a few days I needed to take off, explained we were celebrating our 10-year anniversary a little early, and that’s it.

Over the past few weeks I’ve pulled the following out of him.  Some of these could actually be to mislead me, so put your faith in them as you would like.

• “I’m considering cancelling- it has Zika virus.”
  • Last count of affected states was 30, and everywhere south of NC.  You should also know that he hasn’t cancelled yet.
• “You probably will want to bring a swimsuit.”
  • So somewhere warm, maybe beachy, or a resort…
• “We could drive or fly there from Raleigh.”
  • Most likely within 6 hours of Raleigh…
• “I don’t think you’ve ever said you want to go there.”
  • Hmmm.  Rewind in mind every conversation we’ve ever had about future destinations.  This may take a while.
• “It’s going to be a weekend to relax.”
  • So probably not a bustling city scene with a lot of tourist attractions.  

So with those sketchy hints, I’ve it narrowed down to…

Savannah, Georgia.  Of course, all of his hints may have been completely false and just a ploy to mislead me.  In any event, we’re leaving in a few weeks, and I have outfits to plan and shirts to roll.

And yes, it is just as exciting as it sounds.

The following was written one week after the proposed date of the trip, and 3 weeks after my husband passed away.

On April 23, we realized we would not go on his surprise anniversary trip for me.  We realized he would still be on crutches, he would still be struggling, and it just wouldn’t be the same.  So, because we could never keep secrets from each other anyway, he told me where we were going to celebrate 10 years of blissful marriage.  To celebrate June 3, 2006.

Photo credit here.

On one seemingly random 4-day weekend, my husband was going to whisk me away to Puerto Rico.  A perfect, no-passport-required, paradise island.  Specifically, we were headed to the resort pictured above.  I had absolutely no idea.

When he told me his original plan, it felt like my world had just imploded with the perfection of this man.  I burst into tears.  I just couldn’t believe he was going to take me to such an exotic location on a whim.  It was perfect.  For two weeks, we had been dealing with his recovery, day-in and day-out.  His mobility was limited, my patience was wearing, and a long weekend on a Caribbean island could not have been more perfect.  I cried for his perfection in planning.  And then I cried for the irony that we couldn’t go.  But mostly for his perfection.  Why did I deserve this wonderful man?

After my miniature pity party, we took  a moment to regroup.  We danced, hugged, and kissed in the kitchen, as I was busy washing dishes and preparing dinner.  I remember being annoyed at first with his persistence in wanting to make-up.   But I eventually gave in, because his PDA was such a rarity; and in the moment, such a gift.

We could only go so many hours apart.  So after he walked away to lay down, I eventually came to hang out with him again.  Given the choice between doing nothing together or doing things apart, we always chose the nothing together.  And I felt compelled for us to name things we were thankful for.  We had done this before, but with the recent “woe is us” moment, I felt like we needed to regroup and get a little perspective.

We took turns:  he named something then I named something for which we were each grateful.  He named silly things:  the ceiling fan, my shapely backside.  I attempted to name more serious things:  his sense of humor is the only thing that comes to mind.  And then, out of the blue, he gave me a sincere compliment.  For the first time in maybe years, he complimented me.  See, we knew the other had an excessive amount of self-esteem.  It was both an attractive attribute, but also a point of contention for each of us.  So our marriage grew from pointing out areas of improvement for the other.  Harsh, at times, I know.  But for two people always running on a full tank of self-confidence, a challenge was sometimes more beneficial than wasted praise.  We raised the bar for each other.  We strived for constant improvement.

And in that moment, a moment we never realized would be one of our last together, he gave me a priceless compliment.  His fifth and final point of gratefulness was, as he worded it, that I “take up my cross every day”.  I am difficult, I am selfish, I am flawed, and I am a sinner.  But my husband’s observation was that I take up my cross, serving his needs, and being a Godly wife, every day.  If there are higher compliments a man can pay his wife, I have no interest in hearing about them.  I was paid the greatest of any for me.

It still makes me tremble to think of his words.  I feel humbled, proud, grateful, and relieved, all at once.  I don’t know that I felt the same way – that I take up my cross every day.  But the fact that he did, that he felt my love for him and that he saw me as a Godly wife, will stay with me forever.  Because what else could you possibly want from your life partner?  From the man you dedicated your life to?  From the man who always raised the bar?  From the man who brought you back to Christ?

I don’t know where my path will lead me now.  I have no idea my destination here on Earth.  But I will continue to take up my cross, every day, just for you.

I love you.  Happy 10-Year Anniversary.  And as always, I cross my heart…