It was at the welcome mixer when I first saw her. She was standing with two other girls who many would say were way hotter than Rita. I never believed that for one minute. Rita had a quality about her that drew me to her like a moth to the flame. I went up and introduced myself and she told me her name. Once I heard her speak I was at a complete loss for words. I must have looked quite the fool that first night. Once I regained my voice we just sat there talking to each other. I knew right then that I never wanted to leave her side.
I say that Rita would probably tell you that, but the fact is she can’t talk for long periods these days. Rita is suffering from a malignant brain tumor. The doctors told us that it was inoperable almost as soon as she was diagnosed 13 months ago. They estimated that she had about one to two years, and that was with some pretty brutal treatment. Without the treatment they said she would only have 3 to 6 months.
Our first date was the following weekend. I took her to a nice, but cheap, Italian restaurant just off campus. I cheated, though, as I asked her roommate what her favorite food was. Rita was so happy that I was taking her to this place. To this day she still doesn’t know how I figured out what she liked. Of course, she knew all along, but wanted to make me feel good. She did that a lot, and not just for me. At the end of the evening I kissed her goodnight and made sure she got inside her dormitory. That might have impressed her, that I wasn’t in a hurry to get intimate with her, but in typical Rita fashion, she never let on. It was one of many things which made me fall in love with her. I used to joke with her about that old Beatles tune, Lovely Rita. I would sing her the last verse. She would give me a wink and make me think of her.
It all started with blurred vision, dizziness and near constant headaches. Through all of the testing she never lost her positive attitude, even when the diagnosis came back with the worst news possible. We got a second opinion, of course, but the specialists only confirmed what her primary care physician told us. The treatment options weren’t pretty, involving surgery, radiation therapy and chemotherapy. Through all of the nausea, the loss of hair, the drastic weight loss and weakness she kept up her spirits.
I think it was sometime during our sophomore year that I finally got enough nerve to make love to Rita. Oh, sure, we had done some heavy making out and did some oral, but we never went all the way until that special night. Her roommate had gone home for the weekend and she asked me to stay with her. She had it all figured out, of course. She had me wrapped around her pinky finger and I knew it. There was nothing she could suggest that I wouldn’t try. Making love with Rita was as natural as slipping on your favorite pair of slippers. She had a wonderful body, with breasts that were just about perfect. She always complained that her ass was too big, but to me it had just the right combination of curves and softness. When I entered her, it was all about love, nothing else.
Ever since she was admitted to this hospital I spend every moment I can with her, just talking to her, holding her hand and trying to make her comfortable. When she speaks to me, her love comes shining through in everything she says. She talks about everything, when she has the strength. I listen to her and laugh with her, but each night the tears come when I leave her room.
We dated all through school, finding time to make love whenever we could. At the start of our senior year I proposed to her, on bended knee and all that. She accepted, but she wanted to wait until after we graduated. It seems she wanted to be a June bride, so we waited. She was such a beautiful bride. She got a job as an elementary school teacher that first fall and she was so happy. I graduated with an engineering degree and I got a job in the same town, so we bought a house there.
Her condition has deteriorated considerably in the last few weeks. Both Rita and the doctors are trying to prepare me for what will happen, but I really don’t want to know. All I know is that my friend, my lover, my wife is slipping away from me and I don’t know if I will have the strength to be brave for her.
We tried to have children, but it seemed as if it wouldn’t happen. We went to specialists and they broke the news to us that Rita was unable to have children. We cried together that night. My tears weren’t selfish tears for me, knowing that I wouldn’t become a father, but instead were for the child we would never have. That child would have been blessed to have a wonderful mother like Rita. She would have been such a good mother, but it wasn’t meant to be. Once we cried it out, she put all of her energy into those children she taught, giving them all of the love she couldn’t give to her own child. Those kids were so very lucky to have Rita in their lives, if only for one year of their schooling.
We’re running out of days now. Rita spends most of the day in and out of consciousness, barely strong enough to utter a few words, but she manages to speak to me every day. Some time ago, there was talk about hospice care, but Rita was lucid enough to veto that idea. She didn’t want to have to get used to a new crew giving her care. She loved the nurses and doctors here in this hospital and began to think of them as her family. The nurses loved Rita as well, and there was nothing they wouldn’t do for her. They give me comfort also, keeping me abreast of any changes in Rita’s condition while I am away.
Rita must have had some kind of premonition of what was going to happen to her, because a week before she was diagnosed she asked me if we could go on a picnic. We took a basket of food, a bottle of her favorite wine and a big blanket to the hillside near our home. I spread out the blanket and Rita and I had a wonderful picnic lunch. She was having a good day, as she laughed the whole time. After we finished the bottle of wine, we lay there as dusk approached. I rolled over and kissed her, deeply and passionately. She returned the kiss and we fumbled with our clothing, kissing and touching as we did so. And laughing, always laughing. As the light faded, we made love on that blanket. She held me tightly, almost as if she never wanted to let me go. When we reached the heights of our passion we lay together on the blanket, at one with each other and happy, truly happy.
When I arrived at the hospital today, the nurses and doctors took me into a small, private room. They told me that Rita was fading fast and that she probably wouldn’t see morning. I had been preparing myself for this day, but I had hoped against hope for a miracle. I went in to see Rita and she looked different than before. She was frail and weak, but her face was positively glowing. Her parents had arrived and you could see it on their faces that they knew that time was running out. I held her hand as she lay there, kissing her cheek and whispering to her about how much I loved her and that she was not alone.
Sometime during the evening her condition went downhill fast. Her parents said their goodbyes to her, kissing her and telling her how much they loved her. They left us alone so that I could be there with my wife. I told her that it was okay to let go, that I was with her and that she didn’t need to be afraid anymore. She briefly opened her eyes, looking radiant as she looked right into my eyes. She was struggling to say something to me, so I put my ear next to her mouth. Her voice was faint, but clear. “Love you, honey,” she whispered to me. “Sing to me.” There was only one song she wanted to hear.
I sang that last verse of Lovely Rita to her, struggling with my broken heart to get the words out. She was smiling as I sang. When I finished, she looked at me and winked. Then she slipped away.
The funeral was a celebration of her life. All of her friends and co-workers attended, as well as a great many children whose lives she had touched. I felt so proud of her when I saw so many of those who knew how special she was.
We buried Rita in a small plot, not far from that hillside where we had our picnic. I visit her every day and sit at her gravesite, talking to her and thanking her for the privilege of knowing her, of loving her. I only have memories of her now, but they are such rich memories. She was the one bright star in my life and I feel her love and warmth every minute of every day.
