Today would have been Sean and my fourth wedding anniversary.
It’s funny to think that I might have never typed that sentence. Sean and I always knew we were going to get married once our careers were settled. We wanted the two kids, the house — you know the whole package. We were looking forward to it. But when he was diagnosed in 2007, Sean decided he didn’t want us to get married.
“What if something happens to me?,” he asked me one day. “I don’t want you to be alone.” I looked at him quizzically. Then I laughed. “Well we’re not breaking up, so ring or no ring you’re stuck with me,” I said. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Two years later, he proposed on bended knee in Bombay in front of my parents and his very shocked best friend, Neil, who had no idea what was going to transpire.
It was one of the best decisions we made. The day was perfect and Sean had a permanent smile on his face. He danced, sang and there were no signs of the tumultuous battle that he was silently enduring. I laugh when I see most of the images of us together because we were horsing around the entire time and the photographer (who happened to be Sean’s friend from high school) had to keep telling us what to do because we were so clueless.
When I reflect on the day, I am only grateful that I was able to share it with a wonderful man like Sean. Saying yes to his proposal, exchanging vows and sharing our lives as spouses, I’m blessed that he chose me — eccentricities and all — to be part of his life. We didn’t know what our lives would be like four years down the line, but we sure did a brilliant job of not letting the grave situation take over our lives.
So wherever you are Mr. D’Souza I hope you are safe, happy and well. Here’s to the 11 years we spent together driving each other up the wall and laughing at all trepidation in the face. We will always have Bandra, Dubai and Toronto. And Ottawa, Cuba and Vancouver. But even better, we will always have each other’s hearts.