I was 16 when I met and fell in love with Bob. Two years later we married, and it seemed like a fairytale come true. A day never went by that we didn’t profess our love for each other or for our three beautiful kids.
Every night as we drifted to sleep, we’d make plans for the future. But then Bob was diagnosed with Leukemia – and after an 18-month struggle, he died at age 42. I felt as if I’d died too.
That night, friends came over to comfort me. As I forced myself to eat, the six-year-old daughter of one of my husband’s close friends asked. “Miss Alice, are you getting another husband?”
“Hailey!” someone admonished, but as I looked into her wide eyes, I realized she only wanted me to be happy again.
“When you’ve had the best husband in the world,” I sighed, “you don’t want another one.”
But three years later, I had to tell Hailey there were two “best” husbands – when I married her father, Mark, who brought joy back into my life. Hailey’s now, and we still smile over her innocent question, which was a very wise way of reminding me life has a wonderful way of going on.
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