I guess this is the perfect time to spill the beans on my love life. It’s a SAD story, one I’m trying to get over. So…let me begin.
I am a widow.
I met the love of my life, man of my dreams in 2003. Okay, let’s get it straight, nobody’s perfect, but he was my Prince Charming. Brilliant, Intelligent, Loving Life and Living Extravagantly. We lived in bliss around the District for about three years before we moved into our own home. We were married in 2007 in an extravagant ceremony filled our personal expressions of love.
My Prince Charming had a stroke after a year and a half of our marriage. This adverse health situation was abnormal, even for a man 10 years my senior. I was a very attentive wife during his recovery. But I began to recognize that dealing with his health situation put a strain on the both of us. He felt diminished; a bit of the bravado was gone. Once virile and carefree, he was now even more stressed and noticeably shaken.
We went through countless recovery treatments. Me pushing, probably harder than I should. But I don’t hold back – I expect – demand really, a lot from the people around me. Point blank – I didn’t want my husband to give up on living life, our life.
But God had another plan. One that I might not understand now.
On May 5, 2010, my Prince Charming died.
A life taken suddenly.
It’s still surreal. And so I’ve been sealed shut about it.
Partly because my personal life is my personal life, and many of my readers didn’t know I was married.
But in my quest to open up to all of you, I’m sharing a very painful and personal part of myself.