Happy Anniversary! Today would have been 45 years for us, 45 years for two crazy kids who had no money, few skills, and no idea how hard life would be. The night before our wedding, I worried that I would not be able to love you in the way that you deserved. But I knew we were meant to face life together. When we promised to love each other--no matter what--we were both too young to know just what "the no matter what" could be. It didn't take us long to find out.
Somehow, we managed to scrap together enough money for a down-payment on our "starter house", the place where we lived all of our married life. Within the walls of that three-bedroom row home, we raised three kids and provided shelter to the horde of "Lost boys" who joined our ranks and stretched our food budget. There was never quite enough money, but there was always more than enough love.
Those years raising the kids on a shoestring might have seemed hard at the time, but they were only practice for what was to come. We learned, in the first 19 years of our marriage, to stick together, to uplift each other. The love I had for you when I was twenty grew by leaps and bounds. We learned to laugh even when the cupboards were bare and the bills were deep. We learned to hang onto each other and onto God.
Then came the tough years. In 1992--the same year I returned to college to finish my purloined degree in education--you began to show signs of mental strain. Our furniture and our walls suffered as you often needed to take out your inner demons on physical items. We rode the roller coaster of bipolar disorder for years while you fought your battles and I did all I could to protect the kids. Those years really tested my commitment to you and there were times my love wore a bit thin. But I was--and am--a girl who honors her promises. I stayed. After seven years of hospitalizations and therapists, you made some progress. Life settled down. I finished my degree, started on a Master's, and took a job as a teacher. At last, money was no longer a major issue.
We enjoyed the lull for a few months. Right up until March 2, 2000, when the driver of a red pickup truck ran a red light, broadsided your Taurus, and put you in the hospital for ten months. Despite our best efforts, despite multiple surgeries and heartfelt prayers, you never really recovered. My heart--once afraid I could not love you enough--broke to see the pain you faced. 
Somehow, we found a way to make it work. I got my Master's, got a better job, began work on a doctorate. It wasn't easy. None of it was. But even with our lives bent out of shape, we still find pockets of happiness. Too many hospitals, too many surgeries, too many pieces of you left a piece at a time. Too much of me was stretched too thin. I was exhausted. But I still loved you. The older two kids left for their own lives. I stayed and held the pieces together. In the last few years, my love, I did everything I could to help ease your pain, to find you the care you needed. I would have willingly spent my last breath taking care of you.
God had other plans. He took you home to Him on July 13. Now I am walking life alone, but with the memory of you forever in my heart. Whatever I do, wherever I go, I take you with me.
Our life was seldom an easy one, but I would do it all again. Because, in the end, I really did love you enough.
Forever,
Linda
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