October 13

This date has been embedded into my core. It was the date I held your hand in the hospital. I placed my hear to the palms to feel your pulse for hours. Its the moment I made my last promises. I sang the isley brother’s, “For the Love of you,” because I always sang it to our daughter. It was the last time I told you I loved you and begged for a miracle. I wished for you to open your eyes. It was the day I regretted not marrying you, because I would have waited longer just to see if you would comeback. Though we wasn’t married yet, you was my husband. And thru everything we had been thru it had seemed thru sickness and health I had stayed by your side. Though your mother, without consulting me, had decided to pull the plug. I had begged you to fight.

After the nurse unplugged the ventilator, you showed me as a sign you was still fighting. Your heart didnt give out until 35 minutes after they unplugged you. And I took that as a sign of peace that you heard every word I said sitting next to your hospital bed. I was devoted to you to the very end. My heart broke watching you ascend. And my world crashed because I realized you would no longer be there. Looking at our daughter and how much she favoured you. I crushed into the space of grief and dispair. So many unanswered questions. I morphed into sadness. No one plans to be a single mother. Before this date, I was a fiancee and mother. And at this date I became a widow and single mother. On this date, I watched you leave behind a legacy and also the disdain of false pretenses. I watched every story unfold and fictitious moralties disperse. This day I know longer converse my life with you for a forever storyline. This day I become alone. A journey that scales me to unruling paragraphs of how and why. Lingering into explaining who to trust and knowing nothing at all. Regret became singulair. And I blamed myself for your heart stopping. And I blame our love for sucking the oxygen from your lungs.

We will always be family. Our love was real, infectious, and aloof. We wrote our own story in peculiar and formidable tangents. And for those years, your legacy will ring in our children. And our daughter will never forget her father’s devotion to her and her mother. I will always love you. To My Almost Husband. Rest In Heaven,

Dustin Dalane Nobles.

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