‘Was John Standing Me Up?’
No response; was John standing me up? I phoned my friend, who said, “I’m sure he has a good reason. Something awful must have happened.” My ex-husband came over to spend time with our children. When the restaurant called about the reservation, my ex offered to stand in. Though slightly humiliated, I accepted. We were halfway down the road when I spotted John’s car. He pulled over: “Sorry, I fell asleep in front of the TV. Why don’t you both get in?” A first date for three. John and I stayed together until he died. My ex loved him, too. — Rachel Fehily
The Algorithm Was Wrong and Right
OKCupid calculated our odds as high. When we met, I wanted the moment to last longer than it did. But the algorithm hadn’t accounted for timing: Brennan was moving abroad, and I still carried crippling self-doubt from years in the closet. Before leaving, he told me I already had everything I needed to be loved. It took me years to understand that his words had been a gift, one that helped me find my husband. Nearly a decade later, we reconnected in the gayest of places, Los Angeles, each having found love in our own way. — Roberto López Jr.
No More ‘Business’ Trips
How do you tell your son you have a brain tumor and won’t be there to celebrate his sixth birthday? “You don’t,” my brother said. So I pretended to be on a business trip, recording videos, presurgery, for each day I’d be away. When I called my son on his birthday, he cried, “Please can you be with me? It’s all I want.” He was inconsolable and I was in agony. I told him the truth. When he saw my bruised face and stapled head an hour later, he embraced me — and handed me a piece of his birthday cake. — Inez von Weitershausen
No Getting Around, So We Got Up
My husband was dying. There was no getting around it. One year, probably. Our hearts cracked open. We cried. We held hands walking to the hospital for treatment; snuggled in bed; drank the good wine; told jokes and laughed; spent time with family; made love often; let off rockets just because; gave grandchildren bad advice; kayaked on the lake; had a flamingo-themed martini party; got through one hospitalization and then another. Until we couldn’t. No one tells you that the most important lesson of dying is this: You have to get up and keep living. Fully. Until you can’t. — Sharon Sheppard
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