All the Days of My Life

I, Rita, take you, Charles, for my lawful husband, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.

I said these words on the altar in front of God, my family, and friends at the age of 21, just a few months shy of 22. Chuck was 24. We were so young. I couldn’t imagine us in our 40s, 50s, or 60s, but as we reached each milestone, I couldn’t imagine us not being together forever.

“To have and to hold.”  Chuck was mine, and I was his. We held onto each other and held each other up when times were rough.  We held each other in high regard, with admiration and appreciation. Yet, we weren’t afraid to tell each other to “Snap out of it,” either.

“From this day forward.”  It was the happiest day of my life. I couldn’t wait to build a life with Chuck and see where life would take us.  Chuck’s advice to newly married couples was always the same: “Never let the honeymoon end.” We always did our best to keep the wonder of those first months of married life alive, whether life was easy or hard.

“For better, for worse.”  We had our ups and downs like every other couple.  Some days I would get on Chuck’s nerves, and some days he would get on mine.  Our goal was never to do it at the same time. We always tried to give each other our best, and more often than not we were successful; when we weren’t, we were forgiving.

“For richer, for poorer.”  We were rarely rich in the monetary sense, but we had an abundance of riches when it came to our little family. We were happy with hand-me-down furniture for our first home, day trips with the kids instead of long vacations, and entertaining our friends and family with good food and laughs. Yes, we had our share of job losses and changes.  Chuck had many jobs over the 45 years we were married, but I never panicked (although I stressed a little) because I knew he would do whatever it took to provide financially for our family.  He had an amazing work ethic he learned by watching his immigrant father make a life for him and his siblings.

“In sickness and in health.” Thankfully, Chuck could cure most of our illnesses with a pot of his chicken soup.  When one of us was sick, the other picked up the slack. One Christmas when I was sick, Chuck engaged our young children to help him stuff and wrap the mussels with thread for Christmas dinner. Ours was a “next man up” family. As we got older, this vow was tested.  Chuck would need quadruple bypass surgery; I would have two knee replacements and two pelvic fractures. Taking care of each other could be exhausting while trying to maintain the status quo of work and life in general, but that never deterred either of us from living out our vows. Tending to each other’s needs was never a chore, but an opportunity to show each other respect and love. Little did I know this time last year that the last part of our vows, the part I could never imagine, would come to fruition.

“Until death do us part.”  Almost eleven months ago, the unimaginable happened, and I had to say goodbye to my best friend. Chuck was my person, the one who knew me best and loved me the most. Death may have separated us physically, but it did not end our love story. Today is our 46th wedding anniversary; we’re just celebrating in different places. He is still mine, and I am still his. Love Lives On

From Fifteen to Forever

I wanted to be your wife
from the moment I met you.
At the young age of fifteen,
my tender heart already knew.

You were wise beyond your years,
so different from the other boys.
Making me feel seen and safe,
you quieted the outside noise.

We dated for many years,
waiting for me to finish school.
You were patient and steadfast,
although others call you a fool.

A fool to wait for one girl
when you could be playing the field.
But when we both knew the truth,
to their pressures, you did not yield.

Started a life together,
growing our family to four.
We weathered the ups and downs,
never knowing what was in store.

Growing older by the year,
our home became an empty nest.
Two of us, like at the start,
thought what would come would be the best.

Our family grew year by year,
from four to six, then eight to ten.
You were so proud of each of us;
we heard it again and again.

I cherished being your wife,
and the life we built as a team
Your wife I will always be,
no matter what the world may deem.

We may not be together,
but our love story does not end.
Forever I remember,
the day I married my best friend.

Every Good Thing

Last week, I was watching the Hallmark movie, To Philly With Love. One line struck me, and I wrote it in my journal.  “Every good thing in my life traces back to the day I first met you.” It has been rolling around in my head all week because it rings true for me.  Every good thing in my life traces back to the first day I met Chuck. Everything. He was my “once-in-a-lifetime” love.

This first week of summer is feeling different. This is my first summer in 52 years that I won’t be spending it with Chuck, another “first.” I don’t like these “firsts,” but I think I will like the second and third even less. I know that life will never be the same for me, and whether I like it or not, life keeps going.

I am doing my best to practice living in the moment and learning to relax while still accomplishing what needs to be done. These past eight and a half months, I have been in survival mode, working and doing the minimum to keep the house and myself running. Even with my great support system, it has been hard as hell. Now it is time for me to begin to figure out what my life is going to look like.  I hate even typing those words because I want my old life, but as the Rolling Stones say, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, well, you just might find, you get what you need.”

While I was sitting on my deck this morning, I saw a beautiful bright red cardinal swoop across my yard not once but twice, into the arborvitae at the far edge of the property.  I wanted to believe it was a sign from Chuck, saying he was happy I was using the deck we had refloored last summer but had never had the chance to sit on together. Not long after, a female cardinal flew out of the arborvitae and perched on one of the fence posts. She was quickly followed by her partner, who seemed to check on her, then fly off, with her following behind. That is my sign. I know I need Chuck, and I know in my heart he is looking after me.

Here

You should be here for the next leg of the journey.

It was never yours or mine but always ours.

I refuse to carry on without you.

I only know how to live with you.

your strength

your encouragement

your smile

your love

You were the glue when I was falling apart,

my cheerleader no matter what the score.

You believed in me when my confidence faltered,

and lightened the mood when I was too serious.

You spoke the words I needed to hear,

and listened when my only words were tears.

So I carry you with me,

in my heart, my head, my soul.

I am forever yours.

You are forever mine.

This once-in-a-lifetime love is ours.

First Words

Today’s #Verselove prompt was to borrow the first words of each line of a poem. I chose the first words from the poem “Those Winter Sundays” by Robert Hayden.

Sundays Remind Me of You

Sundays are days for church and rest
and contemplating the week ahead.
Then why does my mind find it hard to focus?
From morning until night, the day is
banked by the memories of you.

I’d give anything to see you again
when I open my eyes in the morning
and enjoy a Sunday breakfast you made with love
fearing it would all be a dream.

Speaking about you and our life together reminds the world
who you were, who you loved, who loved you,
and the differences you made in the lives of others.
What a lucky woman I am to have had a life
of love and laughter with such a wonderful man.

Hinge

#Verselove Prompt:  the golden hinge: a form in which a borrowed line can be read horizontally as the first line of the poem as well as vertically down the left spine, as the first words of each line.”

I borrowed the line “Though we need to weep your loss” from the poem “On the Death of the Beloved” by John O’Donohue.

Though we need to weep your loss

we need to remember the love

need to keep telling stories of you

to keep your memory and spirit alive

weep we must, sometimes we’re sad

your leaving left a huge, unfilled void

loss is difficult, but remembering the love helps

Loss and Love

Today’s Verselove prompt: write a poem about beginning again. The suggested poetic form was an etheree. The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables. Etheree can also be reversed and written 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

I
lost the
love of my
life to cancer
shockingly, quickly.
He was my everything.
He is still my everything.
I long to hear his voice again,
to see his mischievous eyes and smile.
Hoping he appears in my dreams tonight.

Dreams and memories are all that I have
to get me through the long, lonely days.
The glimpses of the past must do
life lines when I’m feeling blue,
the laughs, the tears, the love.
These must sustain me.
For I believe
in my heart
love lives
on.

Detour

Orange road sign with text ROAD CLOSED AHEAD DETOUR and a right-pointing arrow.


The road to growing old together

closed on 9/26/25

when he died at 69.

I thought there would be more time: 

more meals together

more goodnight kisses

more smiles when our eyes met

more late-night laughing

more watching sports together

more sitting in the same room together

just being together.

So now I am taking a detour,

learning a new route

with new experiences along the way

praying these roads eventually lead me

back to the love of my life.

Love in Song Titles

Chuck was the biggest Elvis Presley fan I know, and through his love of “The King,” I became a fan too. Chuck liked to think he had Elvis’s dance moves, and I have to admit, he really could dance and was never afraid to let his moves loose on the dance floor.

For the longest time, Sunday mornings were synonymous with Elvis. Chuck would listen to the “Elvis & Friends” radio show hosted by Rockin’ Ron Cade and enthusiastically sang along. It aired from 7:00 to 10:00 AM, and he would listen after attending 7:00 mass – a faithful Catholic and a faithful Elvis fan.

One of our bucket list items was to travel to Memphis and visit Graceland when I retired. That trip will remain untaken, but I will keep listening to Elvis and maybe even sing along (as long as no one else is around to hear). When I hear Elvis, I hear Chuck serenading me, and it makes me smile.

Below is a snapshot of our love story told in Elvis Presley song titles. There is no sadness, just joy.

“Are You Lonesome Tonight?”
Yes, yes, I am. I am missing
the love of my life, Chuck,
and I had a “Blue Christmas” without him.
I am living in the “Heartbreak Hotel.”
Chuck was my “Teddy Bear” and is
“Always On My Mind.”

We were high school sweethearts.
And I was “All Shook Up”
after our first date.
I told my girlfriends that I
“Can’t Help Falling in Love” with him.
They had “Suspicious Minds,” but
I told them, “Don’t Be Cruel.”
I assured them that he wasn’t a
“Hound Dog,” and I wasn’t going to
“Return to Sender.”

“If I Can Dream,” I can remember
our “Burning Love” and how
he would “Love Me Tender.”
My beloved Chuck, I will
always remember
“The Wonder of You.”

SOLSC#26

DAY 6

Open Mic; Open Heart

Last Friday night, I did a thing. I read three of my latest poems at an open mic night at the Horsham Township Library, where I belong to a Poetry Writing Group. The last time I read was probably a year ago, and about 15 people were listening. This time, about 40 people attended. The large number in attendance was mostly due to a fellow group member debuting his first chapbook of poetry (very exciting).

What made this experience a little nerve-wracking was that I was reading three poems that emerged from my grief processing. Since I was reading to so many people who were not in the group and did not know my story, I had to preface my reading by telling them about Chuck’s death and how long we had been together.

When it was my turn to read, my hands were shaking more than normal. (I have familial tremors that really kick in when my adrenaline is high.) At first, I placed my hands flat on the podium, but that felt very unnatural. I remedied that by clasping my hands behind my back as I read poems two and three.

I managed to make it through my backstory and all three poems without tears, and received very nice feedback from several attendees I had never met before. Below are the three poems I shared, and I would like to share them with you. You may have read the first one in one of my first posts about the loss of Chuck, the love of my life.

Piracy

Cancer came like a marauding pirate
Cunning, ruthless,
Pillaging my lover’s body
Plundering life as I knew it.

No time to climb to the crow’s nest
And plan for the fight
No time to batten down the hatches
We were hit broadside.

Casting me into a sea of devastation,
I am a rudderless vessel,
whirling in an eddy of grief
unable to fathom the loss.

A veil of sadness covers my days
Marooned on an island of despair
My body anchored to the weight of my grief
Dehydrated from the deluge of tears.

Adrift and disoriented
I am lost in the daily struggle
of disbelief and loneliness
Drowning in heartache and pain

Now That You’re Gone

Our keystone has been removed.
Now what?
Who will hold the family together?
Who will hold me together,
Now that you are gone?

Who will –
Sniff the milk and tell me not to drink it,
and leave paper towels scattered around the kitchen for me to put in the trash,
or cook me five-star dinners
Now that you’re gone?

Who will –
I tell to pull up their pants and use a belt,
And watch Phillie’s games with me
Or yell at the TV on football Sundays
Now that you’re gone?

Who will –
Have me watching WWE on Monday nights because I am too lazy to go into another room,
Or start watching a movie with me and then fall asleep
Or steal the covers
Now that you’re gone?

Who will –
Water the plants and prevent me from murdering them
And listen to me vent
Or be my biggest champion
Now that you’re gone?

Who will –
Fill my car with gas
and tires with air
Or my life with purpose
Now that you’re gone?

You Got It

You got it.
You got it.
You got it.

That’s what everyone keeps telling me,
but I don’t got it.
I don’t want it.
I may never have it.

They tell me how well I am doing,
and I deflect with a joke
Too afraid, too vulnerable
To reveal what’s going on.

You got it.
I don’t got it!
You got it.
I don’t want it!

A perfume bottle from 1995
stares at me from the dresser
daring me to cry.

You got it.
I don’t got it!
You got it.
I don’t want it!

What was once easy –
without a second thought
has become complex and tiring
getting locked out
a broken storm door handle
dashboard lights I haven’t seen before
All can invoke tears.

You got it.
I don’t got it!
You got it.
I don’t want it!

People offer advice
for a fresh start I never asked for.
But who are we to decide?
Who are we to choose?

You got it.
I don’t got it!
You got it.
I don’t want it!

But, I’ll try.

I believe I am on an endless journey that will take me to many parts of my heart and memories – familiar and unfamiliar. Grief does not have a destination; it is more like a traveling companion that you have to learn to live with.

Forty-six Days and Counting

Forty-six days ago, I lost the love of my life. A trip to the ER for what we thought were simple GI issues began an 18-day hospital stay that ended with his death. As it turns out, Chuck had a rare upper GI cancer that had spread to his brain and bone marrow before he even exhibited any symptoms. He never had a chance.

Those days in the hospital were frustrating and exhausting. We began with such hope, and every day the red tape of the healthcare system eroded it. Waiting for bloodwork results, scans, procedures, and pathology reports was excruciating. By the time we had a diagnosis, it was time to say goodbye and let him go.

I thought that night was the worst night of my life, but little did I know the days ahead would be even harder. Once the numbness of the traumatic hospital experience and the funeral wore off, the grief took hold of me.

Chuck and I met when I was fifteen and he was seventeen. We were high school sweethearts who stood the test of time and celebrated our 45th wedding anniversary this past August. This coming December would have been 52 years together—practically my whole life – and he was my entire life! I don’t know how to do life without him.

Although my commute home from school is only 10 minutes, I called him every day, and we talked until he saw me pull into the driveway. We loved being together and were best friends. Every facet of our lives meshed together like a well-oiled machine. Now my life has come to a screeching halt.

Even though I am back in the classroom, and my students brighten my days, I am struggling to make sense of the unimaginable loss. How will I find the strength to move forward without Chuck by my side? My head knows that grieving takes time – lots of it, but my heart is broken, and the sadness often consumes me.

Writing has always been a way for me to process life and feelings. Below is the first poem I wrote since Chuck’s death. I am sure that writing will help me through this grieving process. Thank you for letting me share some of it with you.

Cancer came like a marauding pirate
Cunning, ruthless,
Pillaging my lover’s body
Plundering life as I knew it.

No time to climb to the crow’s nest 
And plan for the fight
No time to batten down the hatches
We were hit broadside.

Casting me into a sea of devastation,
I am a rudderless vessel, 
whirling in an eddy of grief
unable to fathom the loss.

A veil of sadness covers my days
Marooned on an island of despair
My body anchored to the weight of my grief
Dehydrated from the deluge of tears.

Adrift and disoriented,
I am lost in the daily struggle
of disbelief and loneliness
Drowning in heartache and pain.

Love you forever!