I, Kathy, take you, Bill, to be my husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death do us part.

These are the words I said.  I said, but I didn’t think about.  I didn’t think about because we were committed to each other and to our lives together.  What’s to think about?  It’s a wedding with the usuals.  Let’s get married, say the words, exchange the rings and kiss!

And if I had thought… at all… about them, I wouldn’t have thought much past the just-get-through-the-ceremony about the vows.  Certainly not the last one.  The death-do-us-part one.  Does anyone think about this vow when they take it?

Does anyone realize what they’re saying?  Probably not.  But here is what a person making that vow should consider:

One of us will leave the other.  The other’s world will be rocked.   The air will be devoid of oxygen, vision will be blurred, hearing imperceptible, and general moving suspended.   The other will succumb to bouts of weakness, faltering, incapacitation.  Light will disappear, stars will grow dim, candles will lose their glow.  Eventually, one of us will leave the other.

I think another vow should be added to marriage vows.  It should go like this:

To every place, we go together.
But…

Death parted us.  One left the other.  And somehow, even though I didn’t fully consider  the marriage vows, couldn’t begin to realize what I was saying, hadn’t the slightest comprehension, even though…

I would say the words again.  I would make the vows fully knowing the life after being left.  I would vow to give my heart, my whole self until the day when one leaves the other.