Chicken Soup for the Bride's Soul (19 page)
Read Chicken Soup for the Bride's Soul Online
Authors: Jack Canfield
The wildfire started on a nearby hillside. Although we heard different updates, the final outcome was not good. “Your house got hit pretty bad,” a friend informed me. I headed home from work as fast as I could.
My fiancée and I drove up at the same time and we couldn’t believe our eyes.
Why are all these people here? And the news media?
I thought.
The house doesn’t look that bad.
The tall trees in the front yard hid our view.
The short walk past the people and media was the longest of my life. Despite the chaos surrounding me, my world fell silent. There, barely standing, was our only possession— our future. The one thing we owned as a couple, the one thing that held our belongings and sheltered our lives. Totally destroyed.
We hesitantly approached what was now walls and mortar and looked in the window to our bedroom. The entire roof had collapsed on our bed; embers and charcoal engulfed every surface; water-drenched belongings still dripped. Lorena’s eyes filled with tears.
Why did this happen?
I thought.
We have no money and no house.
I was numb.
Bewildered, Lorena and I rummaged through the house. Suddenly, all I could think about was the wedding. Would Lorena still want to marry me? What if she wanted to postpone it or maybe even call it off? It dawned on me that, with time, the fire would be a mere memory. But if we didn’t get married, it would affect the rest of our lives. We’d lost our home; I didn’t want to lose Lorena, too.
A reporter began interviewing me. I told him about our upcoming nuptials and admitted my apprehension of Lorena’s unwillingness to go through with it.
Little did I know the same reporter approached my fiancée and told her I had mentioned we were getting married on Friday. Moved, she looked at the grinning reporter, smiled and started crying in relief. In the midst of our crumbling world, we each thought the same thing— we didn’t want to postpone our marriage.
As the day’s mayhem settled, we were left alone to search our soaked, burned, broken belongings, looking for anything salvageable—including our wedding rings. By 3:00 A.M., hungry and heartbroken and with no rings in sight, we clung to a few salvaged photographs as if they were gold.
The days to follow were surreal.
We were bombarded by an outpouring of donations, support and kind wishes. Neighbors and strangers alike brought gifts, money, food and knickknacks. A local television station organized an on-air donation fund.
Having always worked hard for what we had, it was difficult to accept money and gifts from strangers. But with everything gone, Lorena and I knew we had to set aside our pride and let others help. The simple act of a pizza delivery woman giving us a blanket from her car filled our hearts.
And then the irony hit. In spite of our losses, we realized how lucky we were. Our newfound perspective left us thankful for community support and grateful to be alive and together.
The wedding was scheduled for Friday. Although the media asked to attend, we wanted this special moment alone. My mom and the priest were the only people present. Having no idea of the week’s events, the priest commented that we seemed happy. After explaining why we were so emotional, he cried along with us.
We
were
happy. Happy for a new beginning and happy to move forward without looking back.
The day before the wedding, I received a call from the owner of a local café. George offered to host our reception at his restaurant after the wedding. Although it seemed a bit much, we accepted his offer to invite our closest friends and family for a small get-together.
Once again, I was shocked and overwhelmed to see the crowd that awaited us. Outside the restaurant we found reporters, news anchors, firefighters, Chamber of Commerce representatives—well-wishers wanting to congratulate us.
As reporters approached me, I thought,
The real heroes are the firefighters. The real heroes are the community.
I encouraged them to interview those who stepped up to the plate during a disastrous and wrenching time—the people who put their hearts first to help out a couple of strangers.
Inside the restaurant, we were overwhelmed with love and cheers from friends and family. We discovered generous donations: a keyboardist, a wedding cake, a honeymoon train trip to Arizona and a limousine ride to a night’s stay at a local Hyatt.
Just when we thought it couldn’t get any better, a stranger who noticed our party approached us. “Will you please accept this for your wife?” she asked. “It belonged to my grandmother.” The sweet woman slid a beautiful ring on Lorena’s finger and the three of us tearfully embraced.
Now we see our tragedy as a blessing in disguise. God intervened during a difficult time and gave us a fresh start. Not only are we more stable financially, but we’ve been blessed with a closer, stronger relationship.
Next, we plan to rebuild our house. After all, how could we leave a place filled with people who loved and supported us? More than ever, we look forward to the day that our house is our
home
again.
Mike Zeballos
Brooke was our little princess. She was spoiled not only by me but by her father and four older brothers as well. She was beautiful and intelligent, but also compassionate and loving. She never put herself first; she lived to make others happy. She made our souls sing.
Brooke met Dan in her junior year of college. I loved her phone calls even more now. Her laughter and giggles when she talked about Dan made my heart smile.
But when he graduated, Dan took a position two states away with an esteemed accounting firm. Over the next year Dan and Brooke kept in constant contact. I could tell my daughter was in love so I prayed nightly their hearts would remain strong and true, and would someday be united as one.
Brooke graduated with honors and applied for several jobs near Dan’s home. It didn’t take her long to be offered one. Now they were not only close in heart, but also close in proximity as they shared day-to-day life. Two years passed before I got the phone call I dreamed of and prayed for.
My princess was getting married!
They set a date for the following summer. Since it was already January, we had a year and a half to prepare for this joyous occasion. Brooke and I began planning a fairy-tale wedding—the only kind fit for a princess.
But on December 2, the fairy-tale world came crashing down. A simple yearly exam revealed horrifying news: Brooke had breast cancer and it was already quite advanced. We cried for hours.
Why was this happening? Why Brooke? Why my baby? Why not me? I just didn’t understand. I was terrified, confused and angry all at the same time. But I soon brushed all my emotions aside to put Brooke first.
I assured her we would beat this thing and life would go on as planned. She would grow old with Dan and the children they would one day have. I knew my princess would be okay. She had to. She was my baby and I would not say good-bye to her. After all, this wasn’t the way things were supposed to happen.
But the doctors were honest from the beginning. They only gave Brooke a 20 percent chance of survival. Because of her cancer’s advanced stage, a regimen of drugs and chemotherapy began immediately.
After only a month or so of treatment, the disease spread and my daughter got weaker. We knew Brooke had only a short time left. My heart was broken and beaten.
Throughout, Dan remained strong. He was there for Brooke every step of the way. She had lost all of her hair, dropped so much weight she couldn’t even sit without help and could stay awake no longer than ten to twenty minutes at a time. Yet Dan was there to love and support her.
One day, Dan asked for our blessing to marry Brooke before she passed away. He had loved her so long and only wanted one thing in his life: Brooke as his wife. Even if her days left on Earth were uncertain, he wanted them to be spent as a married couple.
We knew she still dreamed of the fairy-tale wedding she would now never have. But we also knew she would not want Dan to marry her when they both knew she was dying. So, we decided the wedding would be a surprise. With help and cooperation from the hospital staff, Dan secretly arranged a lovely ceremony.
When Brooke first realized what was happening, she strongly objected. But Dan explained the most important thing in his life was
her
. And all he wanted was her as his wife—be it for fifty years or for only a day. Brooke sobbed, but agreed. It was her dream, too.
Dan brought a simple but beautiful white gown, delicate lace scarf and sheer veil to her hospital room. The nurses and I dressed the fragile bride, using the scarf to cover her smooth head and draping the veil gently over it. Even pale and broken, my princess daughter shined. This was her day, the day she had dreamed of and planned for.
There was no elegant church as we’d once imagined. None of her family and friends were in attendance as we’d once hoped. But her beloved Dan was there, they were getting married and that was what mattered most. The two exchanged vows and a touching, sweet wedding kiss. It may not have been the fairy tale, but it was still a dream come true.
Brooke spent sixteen days as the wife of the man she adored and loved. And it wasn’t until after she passed away that I found a letter tucked into her hospital nightstand.
In it, Brooke wrote that she had only ever wanted to love, be loved and to matter to others. She expressed her gratitude for wonderful brothers and loving parents. The day Dan married her, she said, all her dreams came true. She had truly lived her life’s dream. Brooke felt her life was complete; she was neither afraid nor disappointed. And, compassionate to the end, she wished only that none of us had to suffer her loss.
Today, we often see Dan and we love him as our son and Brooke’s husband. After all, he made our daughter a princess when she most deserved to be.
Veneta Leonard
L
ove is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies.
Aristotle
They met in the dawn of their childhood.
As kids they would play man and wife.
And they knew even then, before they were ten,
They’d share the rest of their lives.
They played in her tea-castle garden,
’Neath the shade of an old tamarind tree.
In his poor Key West clothes, he gave her a rose
And whispered these words tenderly:
“Te amo, te quiero, cariña”
He said as he whispered her name.
“I love you, I want you my precious one.”
These words set her heart all aflame.
And they danced ’neath the stars to the sound of guitars,
“Te amo, te quiero, cariña”
In the noon of their lives they courted,
No longer young children at play.
And they spoke not a word, only heartbeats were heard,
As they kneeled to worship and pray.
They married in an old Spanish churchyard,
’Neath the shade of an old tamarind tree.
In his best Key West clothes, he gave her a rose
And whispered these words tenderly:
“Te amo, te quiero, cariña”
He said as he whispered her name.
“I love you, I want you my precious one.”
These words set her heart all aflame.
And they danced ’neath the stars to the sound of guitars,
“Te amo, te quiero, cariña”
In the twilight of life she goes walking,
To where their song was first sung.
And she sees his sweet face in memory’s fond place,
In a time when they were both young.
Now he sleeps in an old Spanish churchyard,
’Neath the shade of an old tamarind tree.
In her old woman’s clothes she brings him a rose
And whispers these words tenderly:
“Te amo, te quiero, cariño”
She says as she whispers his name.
“I love you, I want you my precious one.”
These words set her heart all aflame.
She can’t hold back the tears after all of these years,
“Te amo, te quiero, cariña”
Patrick Mendoza
T
o love and win is the best thing. To love and lose, the next best.
William M. Thackeray
After struggling for twenty-two years to make an unhealthy marriage work, I walked out and, without any intentions of doing so, walked right into another relationship. That relationship, through twists of fate, lasted only one year. But it was a year I will never forget. It changed the direction of my life and taught me what a healthy, mature union was really like and that they do exist.
On May 1, 1996, I left my first husband and a marriage that had been “existing” for far too long. I met Chuck only four weeks later and soon after, we started dating. I quickly learned the difference between being with a man who wanted to remain a child and being with a man who was young at heart. There was maturity, a strong sense of self, a love for life and communication. Very important communication. Something lacking from my past.
A whirlwind courtship began. A finding and coming together of two soul mates and hearts. Healing started to take place within me.
He was someone strong enough to handle my residual anger and resentment. His love, caring and sense of humor would help me through my healing times—and through his limited time here on Earth.
You see, after we decided to get married, we learned Chuck had a brain tumor. He was slowly becoming paralyzed on his right side. Fortunately, Chuck was left-handed.