The Proposal

Dear Lisa,

When I get to Heaven, will you marry me?

I’ll understand if you say no.

I get that there are probably better options for you where you are, and with so many secrets of the universe to explore, I’m sure you don’t want to do them alone.  Can you wait for me? 

For some couples, they leave their spouse in their old age and the wait time for their reunion is just a few years, if not months.  You left me at age 39.  I may be down here awhile.  Will I be a distant memory or will you be the first one to greet me when I get there?

Can you tell how much I still love you?   How much I miss you? 

Can you see me struggle?  I think of you during my darkest hours.  I draw strength from how you dealt with your cancer, refusing to be the victim and living life until the end.  I use you for inspiration to continue with my life.

Am I doing okay raising our children?  Children you gave birth to - one of them during your sickness.  I’ve made mistakes with them since you’ve been gone.  And every night when I go to bed, I replay how I was with the kids.  Wondering if I am doing what you asked of me when you knew you were dying, “Matt, I need you to take care of our girls.”  Can you see me raise my voice less and listen to them more?

I am in the process of re-learning life.  Does it frustrate you to see how much I’ve figured out since you’ve been gone?  To see how better I am with my priorities; to see me understand how to appreciate life.  To treat people the way you were hoping to be treated.  You planted the seeds, but left before the flowers bloomed.  Does that make you mad, or are you proud to see your handy work of a different me?

Do you see me trying to live a life without you?  Trying to build something new for myself and take this pain and turn it into something positive?  Does that break your heart?  Or are you frustrated I’m not doing enough?  Are you sitting around a pool with all the other husbands and wives yelling down, “Come on guys, live a little!  Didn’t our deaths show you life is short?  Let’s pick up the pace! We’re bored watching all of the inactivity.  Not much gossip here in the land of eternal happiness, so give us something to talk about.”

Knowing what you now know in heaven, was I still a good husband? 

Does heaven allow you to look at all our old fights?  You know, the ones where we’re both arguing, “That’s not what I said!” “Yes, it was.” “No, it wasn’t.”  I’m guessing you can see now I was probably wrong on a lot of those. 

I can be a better husband. I can sit down and talk, to support your dreams and goals.  If you wait for me, we can have a marriage that Mark Antony and Cleopatra would see and be jealous of.

So what do you say, Lisa? When I get to heaven, let’s get married.  It will be fun.  You can wear white - white never goes out of fashion in Heaven.  We can get married during a thunderstorm – the lightening will be our candles – and we’ll rearrange the clouds so our party won’t get wet.  I’ll make Benjamin Franklin my best man; Audrey Hepburn, your maid of honor.  Martin Luther King can give the toast and Moses will lead us in prayer.

I’ll let you have The Grateful Dead be the band, if you let the Three Stooges sit at our table.  

We’ll honeymoon in a private villa owned by Howard Hughes and then buy a house with a river running through the middle, leading to a tennis court in the backyard.  We’ll hang out on our extended porch and watch unicorns drink from the river. 

Lisa, wait for me, and we can finish up that great marriage we were just starting to achieve before you left.