I Married a Homeless Man Who Had One Month Left to Live – But the Letter I Received After His Funeral Made the Blood Drain from My Face
Larry never begged me for anything. Some mornings we discussed the weather. Other mornings he complained about pigeons or told me my office shoes looked designed by “somebody who hated feet.”
Larry never begged me for anything.
I usually stayed five minutes before rushing to work.
That freezing Tuesday, Larry looked terrible.
His skin had a yellowish cast, and his hands trembled when I gave him his coffee.
“What is this?” I asked, pointing at the sign.
“What is this?”
“The clinic gave me about a month.”
The traffic noise seemed to disappear.
“What?”
“Liver failure.”
I sat beside him on the cold concrete.
“Larry, I’m so sorry.”
“The clinic gave me about a month.”
“Don’t make that face.”
“What face?”
“The one people make when they’re already at your funeral.”
Even then, he could make me laugh.
But the sign wasn’t funny.
“Why marriage?”
But the sign wasn’t funny.
His eyes dropped to his coffee.
“I don’t want to die belonging to nobody.”
“You don’t.”
“That’s nice to say, Sarah. It’s different on a form.”
He explained that without legal family, strangers would eventually handle his remains.
“It’s different on a form.”
“I just want somebody who can say, ‘He’s mine. I’ll take him.’”
I was single.
He was dying.
And I had always been better at solving problems than walking away from them.
***
Two days later, we went to the courthouse.
He was dying.
Larry wore a clean blue shirt someone at the shelter had given him. I wore my navy work dress.
When the clerk asked about rings, Larry patted his pockets.
“Knew I forgot something.”
I laughed.
Eleven minutes later, I was his wife.
I wore my navy work dress.
Exactly three weeks after that, I sat beside his bed at the state hospice facility while his breathing slowly stopped.
Now his letter was telling me I’d married him for a reason that wasn’t true.
I’d married him.
I forced myself to continue.
“The liver failure was real. The month was real. The lie was why I asked you to marry me.”
I set the letter down for a second, then picked it right back up.
“The lie was why I asked you to marry me.”
