The wedding was beautiful. It was winter in Oregon, but we’d miraculously discovered a reception site where you could see green out the windows (apparently in Oregon there are two options for wedding receptions: outside or windowless dungeon).
We’d had an unexpected snowstorm the weekend before, but the weather had finally turned — the sun even came out for the photos. My family, his family, our friends. So much laughter. And him. Perfect.
Six months later, I was crying in a parking lot in Pasadena, sweating in the 100 degree weather and blubbering into my cell phone, while my dad tried to make sense of my choked-up sentences. They’d found a tumor, six inches across, pressing on my husband’s lung. They didn’t know what it was. They didn’t want to tell us anything until we came in person.
It wasn’t anything concerning at…
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