Clark and I met on the Thursday before Labor Day, August 30, 2007.
I don’t know exactly when we first said I love you, but the first email exchange containing the phrase, which he casually includes before signing off, is dated October 3 of that year.
Without even thinking about it, I’d roll my jeans halfway up my calves and get into the bathtub to pull him up.
I shaved his face and gave him his painkillers at perfectly timed intervals. Now my breath quickens when the answer to a clue in my crossword, “Body fluid buildup,” is “edema,” the condition in Clark’s left leg that caused it to swell and dwarf his right.
I love you enough to let you go and live your dream." I tilted my head and shrugged. I love you more."He smiled softly and I brushed some hair off his forehead.
He makes me feel beautiful and powerful, like I’m the most important thing in the world, and I don’t know how to walk away from that. In spirit she walks the city, traces its labyrinths, its dingy mazes: each assignation, each rendezvous, each door and stair and bed.I don’t know how to walk away from him.” ― Rachel Vincent, “I want you to spend the night,” you said. What he said, what she said, what they did, what they did then.And it was definitely your phrasing that ensured it. Even the times they argued, fought, parted, agonized, rejoined.The ease of our everyday interactions is what kills me. The first surgery, a deep lymph-node dissection of the left groin, and its subsequent days-long hospital stay, spanned the first week of April 2008.
The way we spoke to each other about what I’d bring home for dinner or whether it was a PBR or a Grolsch kind of night. The second surgery, which removed the cancer’s recurrence from underneath the tender flesh of the first, was June 11. I spent a lot of time after his death looking at photographs of us camping, at a friend’s wedding, with my family at our first Thanksgiving. I want your tears, your smiles, your kisses..smell of your hair, the taste of your skin, the touch of your breath on my face. You ask yourself every question you can think of, what, why, how come, and then your sadness turns to anger. It drives me, feeds me, and makes one hell of a story.” ― Jennifer Salaiz “She didn't belong anywhere and she never really belonged to anyone. People always thought she was too wonderful to belong to them or that something too wonderful would hurt too much to lose. To say “I love you, but….” is to say, “I did not love you at all”. Wanting nothing in return, except that you allow me to keep you here in my heart, that I may always know your strength, your eyes, and your spirit that gave me freedom and let me fly.” ― Coco J. It wasn't enough to know that deep down, he loved me.