The Real Proposal

Today would have been Edward’s 34th birthday. There’s so much more story about him inside me but I feel like I really need to let him go now. So I made a deal with myself. I have five more stories to tell then I want to put him to rest. So, if you’ve been following along – thanks for listening. Here’s countdown story #5:


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The Real Proposal

For Christmas, Edward gave me a few small presents. First, he made a small bowl out of Philippines Acacia. It’s supposed to be a bowl for my jewelry. Also, he wore two rings all the time – one is a plain titanium band and another is a Tiffany Atlas ring. I really liked them but they were not sized for me. He gave me identical rings as part of my Christmas present but they were smaller. He also gave me a 1950’s copy of Pride and Prejudice and a DVD of the Kiera Knightley film.

I found out later on that Edward got his diagnosis of a metastatic brain cancer in early December. By the time he went to the doctor, he’s been experiencing symptoms and difficulties for about three months (since mid-September). Extensive testing and biopsy at the end of January confirmed his diagnosis as a glioblastoma multiforme (GBM) wrapped around his brainstem. Because of the growth rate, tumor location and his previous cancer history (testicular then colon), surgery wasn’t possible or advisable and other treatment options would be futile. Edward didn’t tell me about his brain tumor until the end of March. He died on May 12, 2007.

So, back to Christmas 2006… All the presents Edward gave me a few days before the actual holiday were perfect: the rings, the bowl, the book and the movie. I practically wore those rings every day but I noticed a marked difference in his mood after we reconnected after the New Year. He was quieter, more serious but just as sweet and attentive, if not more.

Edward asked to take me dinner one night in February. We went to a nice restaurant in Newport Beach, walked along the beach and ended up at his house later in the evening. He sat me at one of the bar stools in the kitchen and stood in front of me. He removed the two rings he gave me and put them on his fingers, then kissed both my hand.

He led me to his bedroom where he took his time to make love to me. While we were still coupled, he said (I can still remember this distinctly), “I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. You’re strong, generous and unusually vulnerable. You need a man who appreciates you, someone who knows what you need and can take care of you. I know what you need. I want to take care of you. Please, marry me.”

It was the most romantic thing I have ever heard or experienced in my life. I accepted his proposal and lost control of myself. After we were done making love, he sat up in bed facing me and asked, “You did say ‘yes,’ right?”

“I think I did,” I answered reluctantly.

“You’re not going to take it back, are you?”

“No. I mean, yes I really want to marry you.”

“Holy cow! I don’t mean right now. I don’t want to pressure you but I just want to know that you will really want to be my wife someday, in the near future. Let me ask again. Krys, will you marry me?”

“Edward, I will. Yes.”

He kissed me then. After a while, he leaned to get four rings from the bedside table. He gave me his titanium band and his Tiffany Atlas ring. He put the band on my left index finger and the Atlas ring on my left thumb (they were his sizes after all). Then he put my Atlas ring on his right ring finger and my band on his left ring finger. We exchanged our rings as a promise to each other.

Much later, I saw in Edward’s journal that he was conflicted with that proposal. He was ecstatic because I finally broke down and admitted I loved him. But, he also regretted making a promise he knew he couldn’t keep. I cried when I read that entry.

Edward was cremated wearing my rings. I lost his titanium band last year but I still wear his Atlas ring once in a while. I remember my daughter remarking once that she knew I was thinking about Edward every time she sees me twisting his rings on my fingers. I still catch myself doing that once in a while.


I’ve posted the fictionalized version of this story here. And next week (or maybe sooner), I’ll tell you about how he told me he was dying, our last night together, his last letter to me and my last letter to him. After that, it will be goodbye.