“Her, her, or her, but you definitely cannot marry her.” she softly spoke.

“Either him or him,” I replied with a smile, “But none of your ex-boyfriends, especially that one.”

Laying next to Elizabeth in her hospital bed, we talked about our past, and our dreams of things to come. And every now and then, we have the same conversation — about whom we would deem okay to remarry if something were to happen to one of us. But unlike other times, her voice was a bit more soft. A bit more sincere. A bit more real. I didn’t want to face this. Not now.  Not even as a slight possibility. “No one,” I said, “I don’t want anyone else. It’ll just be me and the kids.”

“Good, cause I forbid you to be with anyone else,” she joked. “Not even dating.”

Its been a difficult week with Elizabeth being in the hospital. Having an IV inserted into her arm administering medication and being constantly squeezed with the blood pressure monitor every fifteen minutes. Doctors and nurses entering her room on the hour, every hour, takes its toll on a person. And not having her home with us, just felt incomplete.

Actually, things felt incomplete all day. Shoulders heavy — taking care of the kids in the morning, then to work, to the hospital for lunch, back to work, then picking the kids up and providing dinner — then its back to the hospital for the evening, and late night back home with the kids. Rinse, repeat.

While visiting Elizabeth at the hospital, curling up in bed with her, chatting about the hopeful optimistic future, I feel complete. At rest.

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