|On the day she came home and told me she had been diagnosed with an advanced stage of colon cancer, Rocky set a bottle of champagne on the kitchen table.
“I bought it before seeing the doctor,” she said, smiling and holding me in her eyes. “I figured we’d drink it either way.”
I brought out the glasses and set them on the counter before going over to the bottle and popping the cork,
“Here’s to us,” I said, handing her a glass.
We each took a drink and then stood for a long time embracing. We were shy, private people who, as a friend once said, loved one another to the bone.
I was 61 and Rocky was 63 when she died. I wrote that I felt like a man falling through a trap door. What does a man do when he finds himself without the woman who was the great love of his life? I had no idea. continue reading…