It was the start of a beautiful spring day in Paris. The sun was out
but the wind still had a slight chill. Every day seemed perfect for
both Dulce and I. We had spent the past two days since our arrival taking
in whatever the City Of Light had to offer. The Eiffel Tower,
the Louvre Museum, and the Notre Dame Cathedral were some of the places
we had enjoyed. From the onset, we really intended to see Paris on foot
instead of taking the bus tours because we wanted to explore the city
without any of the pressures of time and of other people waiting for
us. We wanted to see Paris the way a child would see and discover
something for the first time.
We, well Dulce, had made plans for us
to go shopping that day and she had already mapped out the area
surrounding our hotel. It was as if by instinct that she knew which
shop or store we would visit that day – all represented by little red
dots on our tour map. It was always something that had caught her eye
during our previous walks and she had, in her mind, noted everything
down to the last detail. Apparently, shopping really is something short
of a military operation for her. That day though, as much as we wanted
to go out early, we decided to stay indoors a bit longer – the
exhaustion of the past two days had eventually caught up with us.
We
were lying in bed that bright early morning leaning into each other’s
head. We were right in the middle of our comfort zone taking our time
to gracefully snap ourselves out of it. After almost six years of
marriage and four years of being together prior, we had learned how to
effectively communicate without saying a word. Every slight movement of
the body communicated volumes between us. It was sign language broken
down to the smallest muscle spasm. So when my head felt her jaw subtly
move a muscle, I knew something was up.
“What’s on your mind?” I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
I
knew well enough that “nothing” meant something. It always did. So, I
just remained patient and waited for Dulce to share her thoughts. She
always eventually would. That was how she was, in shopping and in other
things as well, always pondering things out carefully and thoroughly
before taking any action. I turned my head to lightly plant a kiss of
reassurance on Dulce’s head. I wanted her to know that it was, as always,
OK for her to take her time.
I took a long affectionate whiff of
her hair while we remained in bed. I was thankful that they had grown
back well; although, it no longer had the chestnut brown shade that I
fell in love with; it was now a deep black. This color change was due
to the iron pills she had to take everyday since her last chemotherapy
session. Dulce had been suffering from a rare form of cancer that was
detected in her vulva. After a radical procedure, cobalt treatment,
chemotherapy, and cocktail upon cocktail of various medicines, the
cancer still remained and had slowly crept its way into her liver and
lungs. Actually, I didn’t care what color her hair was, I was just
happy that it was back and she was starting to have her normal life
back, too. A few months earlier, Dulce had been advised to try a new series
of medicine for her next chemotherapy session. Sadly, the first batch
of meds did not work as much as we had hoped and prayed that they
would. Her doctor told her that there was a big chance that this second
cocktail of newer drugs would have a greater chance of working. She
said that she couldn't decide and that she would have to think about it
first. We had discussed and argued about her options at some length. I
already had made known previously my stand on this – I was optimistic
that a second time around, with the new drugs, would work. The first
time had strongly affected her a lot not only physically but also
emotionally.
Then, Dulce finally broke her silence.
“Baby, remember what the doctor told us?”
“About?”
“My taking chemo again.”
“Uh-huh.”
I
then froze to wonder what she might be trying to reveal to me. We had
not talked about her cancer since we arrived and I thought we’d be
forgetting about it even for just a few days.
“On our first
night here, I prayed to God to guide me in helping me decide on this. I
asked for a sign. I said if that if I were to see white flowers during
our trip, it would mean that I would not continue with chemo.”
I just kept quiet and firmly held her hand. Dulce instantly knew I was anxious and worried.
“Eric, remember when we were on our way down to the Metro station yesterday?”
“Yes.”
“Remember that delivery guy who suddenly appeared and blocked our path as he ran past us?”
I just heaved a heavy sigh and nodded.
“He had such a beautiful bouquet of the largest white roses I’ve ever seen.”
Dulce knew - flowers or no flowers - she would not go through chemo hell
again. She needed a sign not to reassure herself but to reassure me –
to hopefully make me agree. She figured that nothing is permanent in
life and that she should make the best of it. She knew that, all along,
she had been on the right track and making the best of life by taking
care of our son, Dustin.
More Than Thisby Charlie Hunter Quartet feat. Norah Jones
I could feel at the time
There was no way of knowing
Fallen leaves in the night
Who can say where they´re blowing
As free as the wind
And hopefully learning
Why the sea on the tide
Has no way of turning
More than this
There is nothing
Oh more than this
You tell me one thing
More than this
You know there's nothing
It was fun for a while
There was no way of knowing
Like a dream in the night
Who can say where we´re going
No care in the world
And maybe I´m learning
Why the sea on the tide
It has no way of turning
More than this
You know there is nothing
Oh more than this
You tell me one thing
More than this
There is nothing
Nothing
More than this
You know there is nothing
Much more than this
You tell me one thing
More than this
There is nothing
More than...