At the age of 40, I found the love of my life.”. Lee swept me from an ordinary world into something magical. He treated me like a queen, calling me “beautiful” as if it were my name, singing to me, cherishing every moment we shared. When we moved from Arizona to Tennessee, leaving behind family and friends, it didn’t matter. We had one another, and that sufficed.
In late 2017, Lee noticed a persistent rash. Multiple doctor visits brought creams and antibiotics, but nothing helped. Finally, in January 2018, a specialist took one look and said the words that changed everything: “You have cancer.” Radiation began immediately, followed by plans for chemotherapy. The treatments were brutal, Lee described the pain as “like pooping glass” but he endured with courage.
Just as chemo was about to start, Lee developed chest pain. Tests revealed fluid around his lungs. When the results came back, we learned the cancer had spread, stage 4 metastatic lung cancer. The prognosis was eight months. We cried through the night, unsure how to move forward.
We turned to the Cancer Treatment Centers of America in Arizona, where Lee underwent major lung surgery. The months that followed were a blur of travel between states for treatment, financial strain, and a new reality shaped by exhaustion, pain, and quiet moments together. We still found joy, snuggling, talking, and holding each other close.
By July, Lee’s health declined sharply. After a terrifying drop in oxygen levels, he was hospitalized. Doctors told us he had just days left. Our daughter flew in, and we spent that time wrapped in love, tears, and prayers. Miraculously, Lee rallied for a week, filling those final days with laughter, conversation, and tender moments.
Eventually, we brought him home under hospice care. That last Saturday, we enjoyed a peaceful day together. In the early morning hours that followed, Lee departed quietly while gripping my hand. My heart was shattered.
We cremated him and held a service in Arizona. Life now is therapy, prayer, and learning to live with the emptiness. Lee was a faithful, hardworking man who loved his family fiercely. He made me better, and I will forever be his wife.
Grief isn’t something you simply “move past” it’s something you bear. Yet I bear it with optimism. Lee will remain a part of me until my final day. And someday, I think I will encounter him once more.
