We met on my 18th birthday.
We were friends for 6 years. We even flirted a bit. Maybe even a lot.
But I still didn't figure it out.
Then 11 years ago today, I finally got a clue. You weren't too shabby.
We began dating and the rest, as they say is history.
Two years ago today, you fell down the stairs. Your legs had given out from under you as you were heading up to bed. You decided to sleep on the couch, and you insisted that I go ahead upstairs to bed.
The next morning we called the Cancer Care and told them of your fall. It was not your first fall that week. I knew of one other which I saw and it terrified me. I later learned that you fell a few other times too while I was at work.
Cancer Care told us to bring you to the hospital. Since your legs were very weak and I am not strong enough to lift you and hold you up, we called for an ambulance.
Had I known that was your last moments in our house, I would have stayed on the couch with you.
Within a week, your legs no longer moved. And the news came that Cancer had spread and there was no longer anything to be done.
And that you would never come home.
I wish we had tried harder to get you home. It would have been costly, but worth it. I think we both freaked out at the idea of spending money. Maybe had we tried harder, you might've fought harder too. Being in a wheelchair is not that big of a deal. You would've adapted. But we freaked out.
I will always regret that.
I'd give everything up to have you (and babybear) back again.