Tragedy

During the course of my life, I have observed a great deal of tragedy; I have only been a participant in a very few circumstances. The elderly death of one’s parents is not a tragedy. Death is as natural as birth. True tragedy is when someone suffers an untimely death and especially when it is sudden and unexpected. My wife, Diane, was a very clean and festidious lady. One Saturday, in the late Winter of 1998, friends called to arrange a last minute dinner date. Diane, with not enough time to shower and dress, opted to wash her hair in the kitchen sink. I knew of the dinner date so, when she yelled to me, I assumed it was for me to change and clean up. At birth, Diane had developed with a small ‘spider vein’ in her brain that the Neurosurgeon told me was delicate and might have ruptured at any time during her life for multiple reasons. While Diane held her head under the Kitchen faucet and held her breath, the delicate vein burst and she fell to the floor in pain. Thankfully, because she had yelled to me, I came into the house almost immediately to find Diane face down on the living room floor with both palms pressing the sides of her head. In disbelief, I called 911 and an ambulance was soon arrived. My claim that I suspected that Diane had suffered a brain aneurysm was proven correct and, within two days, she died at the age of 43. My first thought was to Thank the Lord that our two daughters were off to college and essentially on their own. I recognized immediatedly, that I was now in no condition to care for myself, much less two young children. Then, my anger turned toward God. The tragedy of having lost the love of my life has not diminished for me in almost twenty-seven years now. I dated for some time, only to discover firmly that what I had with Diane could not be replaced. Diane and I had grown together from silly young kids to mature parents. The icing should never be the essence of the cake. I finally relented to marrying someone with whom I have little compatibility. My Asian wife has had a meager life. My Anh can not enjoy an expensive meal at a fine restaurant; she does not understand that money is merely a means to various ends. When her father passed away recently, I had to convince My Anh that it was important for her to return to Vietnam in order to attend his funeral. So, why had I married My Anh? Because I realized that she was so far removed from Diane that I would not make endless comparisons. I am resigned to helping My Anh to lead a long and healthy life in the United States. In 2025, she will take her American Citizenship Test and one of her three children are already here in the United States. In many ways, I remain broken over Diane’s untimely death. Perhaps, I have opted for penance over happiness. Though we were deeply in love, I was not the very best husband that I could be. Within a year of Diane’s death, she said something to me that will forever haunt me. She would never, ever had said it if she had known how deeply it would hurt me for many years. One evening, for no reason that I can remember, Diane said to her faithful husband of twenty-five years, “I know that you Love me…but you do not Cherish me.” What Diane did not know was that I did indeed ‘Cherish’ her; it was my Ego that would not allow her to know it. This is my pain.