I knew it would be the last time I’d ever stare into his eyes. He was my love. He was my life. We had what most people spend their whole life looking for- true love, happiness, unconditional companionship and trust. We had been together for twenty seven years and there I was, sitting by his bed, holding his hand and looking into his sweet brown eyes. We didn’t talk. There was no need. We both knew what was going to happen.
His kidney problems had been getting worse this past year. The doctors said he needed a transplant. None of his three sons was compatible. His wife, living in her world of fantasy, didn’t even know what was going on. Then, it happened as a joke; my blood tests showed I could be his donor. I, the lover, the family intruder. Ironic.
He never promised me anything. And I was perfectly happy the way it was. In a way, I had more than her. He couldn’t divorce her, not with her disease taking away her sanity and health so fast. He was a good man. And I had his love, his attention, his time. Everything was just fine. For twenty seven years, we coped with everything- his family, my family, society’s judgment. But we were fine.
I never left his side during his treatment. And when I learned I could be his donor I didn’t hesitate. We had surgery and I gave him a piece of me. It felt so natural, the right thing to do. I recovered really fast, but he had some complications. They did everything that could be done, but he wouldn’t get any better. He struggled for life for more than a month and everyone already knew the inevitable.
I didn’t go to the funeral. I mourned alone staring at the blooming flowers in our favorite park. For a moment I felt lost. Life as I knew was over. I chose to live far from my family and close to him. I didn’t have kids. I was lonely. However, after so much time I learned a lot with him. And that’s what’s going to keep me moving. He taught me not to worry about tomorrow, because it’s enough to worry about today; And not to let my happiness depend on anyone or anything. With him, I found joy inside of me. I was glad that we have so much history, I was glad I could do what I did to help him and I was glad it was over. He was not suffering anymore. And neither was I.