Making a Choice

If I were to pick an ideal wife for my husband said woman would be

-super hot
-super smart
-a gamer
-loves nba
-loves reading manga
-very successful in her career
-does not have a stupid mouth
-would know exactly where and what she wants to eat at any given time or day
++++many more

She would be so different from me and obviously so much better. With my husband's looks, charm, sweetness, and everything else, he could have found someone exactly like this easy. He could have pursued her and despite knowing that he was married, she would surely reciprocate.

But I was lucky enough to have had a husband who chose me and our love for each other. We used to talk about how when you put responsibilities and bills and due dates into the mix, love boils down to one thing- decision. Love is a decision you keep when love doesn't feel like love anymore. Love happens most when things are least romantic.

For us although love existed from day 1, true unconditional love only happened on the day of his cancer diagnosis. It was there the first night I had to drive a very sick Cezar home with only a student permit in my wallet and a few hours of driving lessons.

Love happened the first time he threw up on my hand while he was trying to get the heavy feeling out of his chest.

Love was when I had absolutely no sleep but went to the blood bank anyway to have myself screened for donation (old fashioned hospital wouldn't accept because I had an old tattoo).

Love happened the first time I had to help him use a bed pan and a commode.

Love was celebrating Valentine's day and our wedding anniversary at the hospital while the doctors try to figure out what's causing his growing pain.

It was in the many months where sex was absent.

It's never getting to give him a full hug because of a feeding tube protruding from his stomach.

The uglier things got the truer our love became.

Our love was in his blood, his tears, and his sweat.

Our love prevailed through toxic piss stained by chemo drugs, it lived in the dirt of his disease.

And he loved me for it.

If he were alive I could ask him if he would wish for ideal wife above and I can say with confidence that he would give me a resounding no.

Because the ideal wife is just that, ideal. It takes a lot more to become the true 'til death do us part wife.

Being the ideal wife is easy. Find out what the man wants, become it, profit. But to lay open with all your imperfections and give your partner complete trust that they will love you as you are, that is true love in itself.

And although days are dark and filled with resentment, frustrations, jealousy, and pain, it's comforting to know that there is love in there too.