We put the doctor’s letter in a safe place and move on with our lives.
At the time, we were both working at an upscale Italian restaurant. One night during the holidays, my husband got a migraine in his eye from a hasty dinner, and my mind went to new places. I’m not a migraine sufferer so I never took these headaches seriously before, but now that I know about aneurysms, all I can think of, however absurd, is, is about his sudden death.
I rush around trying to serve my customers; The bar was packed, and we lined up outside the door. The other bartenders took their place, shaking martinis over their heads, while our manager ushered my husband out from behind the bar.
“Don’t worry, honey,” he tells me, his shorthand for baby, “I’ll be fine!”
And he, after a few Advil and 20 minutes alone in the back room. But my hands were cold, and inside I was shaking.
A few nights later, while arranging the dining room with a few other waiters, I expressed my fear that my husband would die young. I feel it like a certainty that I have to prepare for it, but I don’t know how. A waiter friend said, “You have nothing to complain about, Carol. You have found your soul mate, the love of your life. The rest of us may never find what you have.”
How did he know? Because it’s true: From the first time my husband and I kissed, I had the feeling that he and I had been trying to get together for centuries. That we have lived in previous lives with arms outstretched, always yearning for the other, but for reasons that are tragic and beyond our control – war, famine, feud – we have can never be together.
This is probably my overstressed brain at work – my husband and I were actors when we met – but I just can’t do it. This life to him was like a reward at the end of a series of trials where, in the end, we enjoyed a happy marriage.
https://www.nytimes.com/2022/02/04/style/modern-love-aneurysm-death.html Love him more when he walks out the door