I was twenty-nine and still learning how to live with the loss of my mother when volunteering at a hospital became the only thing that gave my grief some purpose. That was where I met Thomas, a 72-year-old man dying from heart failure with nobody regularly visiting him. Within days, our conversations became the brightest part of his afternoons. Then he made an extraordinary request: he wanted me to marry him so that, when his final moment arrived, he could leave the world as someone’s husband rather than feeling completely alone.
I thought he was joking until he reached for my hand and asked again. Two days later, a hospital chaplain performed a tiny ceremony beside his bed. I wore my yellow sweater, and because we had no wedding rings, Thomas slipped the pull tab from a soda can onto my finger. Our marriage lasted exactly seven days. I remained beside him through every difficult breath, and when his heart finally stopped, I was holding his hand…………….
