As I walked down the aisle to marriage, children and grandchildren,
carrying lace cut from my mother’s wedding dress, I wasn't thinking of endings.  

I only saw him look at me and smile. I was only aware of him, 
not the wedding guests, not my father at my side with tears in his eyes

or my younger brother, a groomsman, or my four friends, 
roommates in college, now bridesmaids in blue dresses.

I didn't know the path but knew it was with him.
When he could no longer walk that path with me,

he never spoke of death, never acknowledged he was dying,
but he said, many times, "I don't want to leave you."

Did he fear I wouldn’t be able to manage without him 
or did he not want to leave me behind alone?

When I asked, he said, "You will be fine. You are strong.
I just don't want to leave you, be without you.

On his last day we ate toasted egg salad sandwiches 
with lettuce and tomato, the radishes he loved, and coleslaw.

Our first daughter was there with us.
We ate, talked, laughed,

Then clouds came and covered the sun.
I called his doctor who wanted to admit him to the hospital,

but it was the height of covid. He said, "I won't go
without you. I will be fine. I am staying here."

The doctor recommended hospice. 
My husband asked if I wanted them to come.

I struggled but said, “Yes.” 
My daughter told me later he winked at her when he agreed.

The hospice nurse came at six with morphine
and something to help him breathe easier.

At 3:30 AM he was gone.
I miss his hands, his body, his smile.

He was my man for 53 years.