CAloryn was a free spirit and I knew she was special from the moment she sat next to me in a bar in Colorado in 1987. We married in 1989 and I was looking forward to sharing my life with this fun, confident woman.
Four years later, I noticed something odd about Carolyn’s walking, and then a few weeks later, she didn’t notice the light had turned green.
She was referred to a neurologist and diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. We were deeply in love, but life was hard. By 2009, my world had become confined to work and caring for Carolyn. She was becoming increasingly sick, and I refused to think about when she might pass away. It was too painful.
So one day in 2011, when Carolyn said, “Mil, I’ll find the right person for you,” I denied it. “That’s nice,” I joked, “But you don’t have to worry about it for too long.” She said it a few more times after that, but I changed the subject.
Then, in early 2019, we found ourselves in her office. Carolyn wanted to stop treatment, and I listened in amazement as she explained her decision. “As we’re having this conversation,” she said, “I want Mill to find someone to be with me when I’m gone.” She paused, then said, “And I’m going to choose her.”
I tried to put it off, saying I would look for someone later, but Carolyn was adamant. She was going to lead the search, and she was going to act immediately. The doctors didn’t give her much time left, so there was no time to waste.
So I created an online dating profile, describing myself as kind and caring, in words that Carolyn dictated from her bed. “I love her and this is what she wants,” I thought, as I uploaded photos of myself that Carolyn had chosen. Carolyn didn’t think I should mention our situation in my profile. “You can explain it when you talk,” she said.
I started talking to people, but every time I explained my situation, I never heard from them again. I felt relief, but to my surprise, I also felt disappointment. I realized I wished I had one more person in my life, but I didn’t want to feel that way. It was upsetting and confusing.
Then, in late 2019, I started messaging Jean. She shared my love of adventure and the outdoors, and she had a great sense of humor. I was nervous the first time I called her because I thought she would run away if she asked me what was going on. “I need to explain something,” I said. “I’m married, and my wife has multiple sclerosis. She wants me to stop taking her medication and find someone, and I want that too.”
Out of the blue, Carolyn asked me to call her, and before I knew it, we were chatting. The following week, I went on my first date in decades. Jan was sweet and funny. We hit it off right away.
When I got home, I tried to answer Carolyn’s questions honestly. It was hard to tell her that Jean and I had kissed, but Carolyn seemed excited. “So,” she said, “when can I meet her?”
Two weeks later, I was so nervous while waiting for Jan to come home. Then, when Jan and Carolyn met, I was amazed at how quickly they clicked. There was laughter and laughter at dinner. They were like a family.
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Although I was worried, it wasn’t surprising at all. Three months later, Jean moved in. Jean and Carolyn had become best friends while I was in love with her. But as my love for Jean grew, so did my guilt. Even though I knew that’s what Carolyn wanted, it felt like infidelity. If she was jealous, she hid it from me. Still, I suffered.
Carolyn knew she didn’t have much time left to live and wanted to celebrate her life. In September 2020, family and friends came over for a BBQ. Two weeks later, I was at her side when she passed away. I was so grateful for her in my grief. Her courage and selflessness meant I didn’t have to go through this alone.
Jean and I got married in August 2022, and Carolyn played a big role in our wedding. I had her wedding dress as the flower girl outfit. My nephew was the officiant and talked about Carolyn during the ceremony. “She knew you wouldn’t find a woman,” he joked. “So she had to pick one for you!” I have a wonderful wife, and I owe it all to Carolyn. She taught me what true love is.
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