Kiss Him Like It's the LAST

It was mid-August when I left for Virginia. Intent on getting my head straight and find a way to survive my aching heart, I took my 8 and 10 year old sons on a Greyhound and said good-bye to my husband and two older children (then 17 and 16). We were on an adventure. However, it was the look I saw in my husband’s eyes as he hooked my neck and pulled me into a hug that disturbed me. Tears hovered on the ledges of his eyes and his mouth quivered. “Good bye.” He said. And he held me.

When I returned, I overheard him tell one of our pastors how he felt that day. “I feared I wouldn’t be here when she returned t.”

Until that moment, I had only thought of myself and the brokenness I was feeling. To say our marriage was rocky would be an elevation from where it was headed. But in that moment, I understood what God had been telling me for months. “Love him.” My husband was broken too. Still is. Over the course of the next few months, I began to notice a heart change. Mine. By Christmas, I had found my friend again. He hadn’t left, but was hidden behind a wall of rejection. Mine.

Then, I saw that look again. I felt those arms again. The ones that said, “Good bye.” I didn’t sleep that night as he left our room to sleep in the oversized chair in our family room. (It’s the only place he can rest these days.) I listened for his groaning from pain. At least I would know his heart still beat. Later I found myself in prayer, “Thank you Lord, for not allowing the sun to go down on my anger.”

I now understood that too. With that understanding, came the challenge, kiss him like it’s your last.

With my husband’s disability and all that goes with it, I never know whether his heart will decide it’s tired of pumping for a man his size, or if his legs will develop the dreaded cancer Lymph-edema suggests is possible—probable. The harsh reality and potential of widowhood looms daily.

Stephen Arterburn wrote a book called Regret-free Living. I love that title. Tomorrow has enough trouble; I don’t need to add to it the pain of regret. So I kiss him. I try to remember and kiss him as though we will never have the chance again every time we part.

Through this exercise, I’ve learned that it is difficult to maintain a good “mad” when kissing your man like that. All of that has to melt or be dealt with. The lines of our communication have become more open and free—honest.

No one has promised us tomorrow, so make the most of today. Your spouse doesn’t have to be battling a life threatening disease. A catastrophe can rip him from your arms in an instant. So I urge us all: Kiss him like it’s the last time.