Today is my wedding anniversary. Most of you know that the wedding was far from the start of our lives as a couple; we had spent 21 years together before we got married and Butch died 6 days later.
Nonetheless, my wedding day holds good memories for me. We were married at home by a hospice minister. As you can imagine, hospice facilities don't arrange many weddings for their patients and the staff were clearly excited about this special event. Butch was all cleaned up, wearing fresh pajamas. Getting a license was tricky, since both parties were supposed to go to the courthouse, but some rules were ignored to accomodate our situation. I know it's silly, but it was important to me that I shaved my legs before the ceremony.
My sister and Butch's brother were our witnesses. Butch couldn't stand, so I sat next to him. The minister sat, just because we were sitting. " . . . 'til death do us part" was not uttered.
I celebrate this day with a couple of Butch's favorite pleasures - a bowl of chili and a John Wayne movie.
Hugs my dear friend, hugs. I did not know this story. Hugs.
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