I heard her struggling. “You need any help?” I called up the stairs to her but knew she would decline.

“No!” she said with as much energy as she could muster (which, wasn’t much). “Stay out. I’m not ready yet,” she insisted. 

I was standing at the bottom of the stairs, ready to run upstairs in an instant, if I heard her fall or felt she needed my help. I had been there for nearly an hour.  

She treated me so well when she was healthy. She let me vent when I needed to. She held me close when I needed that too. She was the perfect wife for me for forty years today. 

Now that she was under the weather, I was determined not to let her down. 

Then I saw her emerging from our marital bedroom. She was beautiful. I didn’t see the wrinkles from the stress of raising two children. I saw her like she was when she walked down the aisle to me with her brother-in-law giving her away.  She is as beautiful today as she was that day. I saw her the same. 

The only difference was her hair. Her wig today was brunette with red highlights. It’s no way near her natural hair color. But I didn’t mind. 

I ascended the steps to greet her, not taking my eyes off her for even a second. 

When I approached her, I held my hands out to wrap my arms around her. With that, I held her tightly and whispered in her ear. “You are so beautiful. I am so lucky to have you with me.” 

“Where are you taking me for our anniversary?” 

She knew she couldn’t travel. She was just too sick. But I knew she would try. So, I had another idea. “Today, for our anniversary, I’ll be taking you to Flemings,” I announced knowing it was her favorite place to go. 

“Really. I love it. Do they still have a dance floor next door?” 

“But, of course, my love. Now, let me help you down the steps.” I said, knowing she had to hang on to both me and the banister. 

She took one step at a time, taking small pauses with each step. But I was determined that I would not rush her, holding on to each other as she descended the stairs.  

Once we were at the bottom of the steps, I led her to the dining room table and pulled out a chair with my free hand. She sat, and I helped her to get comfortable. 

The table was already set. It had a prime rib steak from Flemings, right along with all the accompaniments that I knew she loved. 

I spent a lot of time cutting hers up, as she would have a hard time with it otherwise. 

I sat next to her and took her hand. 

We both bowed our heads, and I said, “Thank you, God, for this day. Thank you for my beautiful wife.” 

She added, “And my husband.” 

I poured her some wine, but not much, as it may affect her medication. Then, we began to eat. 

She loved her steak, but she didn’t eat much. She couldn’t. 

After the meal, I got up, put her favorite CD in the player, and pushed play. 

She didn’t take her eyes off me as I did and returned with my arm out for her to take. 

We danced in the living room. She didn’t last for very long before she started to collapse, but I was expecting this and was able to catch her. 

She had lost so much weight. She was lighter than a feather as I held her in my arms and asked, “Where to now, my love?” 

“Can you carry me to bed? I want you to lie with me.” 

I carried her to the steps and ascended them quickly, carefully carrying her into our marital bedroom and gently setting her on the end of the bed.  After I sat her on the bed, she told me to turn around. I smiled and did as she had asked. It was a mild request, but I knew why. She didn’t want me to see her after her double mastectomy. 

She cried for days after that… believing that she wasn’t a whole woman anymore. 

That was only three months ago. 

I never told her how much it hurt me to see her hurting as she was. 

I watched her through her vanity mirror as she slowly removed her dress. Her bra was packed with something she got online that looked like natural breasts, but she never knew it mattered only to her. 

She kept her wig on. One of the things she couldn’t handle was for me to see her bald head without her wig.    
After she got undressed and went to bed, she covered herself up and called to me. 

I slid into the bed and under the sheet, putting my body next to hers, spooning. 

After a while, she pushed her bum against my crotch, hard. 

I knew what she wanted, and, I wanted to give it to her, but she wanted it for me, not her. I knew she would be disappointed if I didn’t oblige her. That’s why I took my Viagra pill today for the first time in what felt like forever. 

Of course, it worked, but I wouldn’t have been able to stay hard knowing she was in such pain.   

She again pushed her bum into my crotch. 

I slipped down my shorts and slowly guided my cock into her swollen wet vagina. 

Surprisingly, I slipped in easily. 

After a few strokes, I pretended to cum. I knew she was in pain, and, though my member was hard, I had no lust in my heart. 

From there, I put my arms around her, careful not to put my hands anywhere near where her breasts once were. She hated it when I touched her there. 

“Mark?” she asked. 

“Yes, my love.” 

“Do I have to go to treatment today?” 

"No, love, not until tomorrow.” 

“Today, we have been married for forty years.” After a long pause for her to catch her breath: “I had only been doing the treatments...” Another pause. “Because I wanted to kiss you on our fortieth anniversary.” Another long pause. “But now that I have…”  This time, it was even longer, taking a few moments to speak again. “…now that I have. No more treatments for me.” 

I knew then that this would be our last anniversary.