He Proposed To Me While I Was Grieving My Father
While my dad was in the hospital bed fighting for his life, I walked around the ward praying to God to keep him safe or let him go silently without too much suffering. I think at some point I cried. My hair was messy, and my eyes were sunken. A guy approached me at the corner of the hospital and said I was beautiful. I said thank you without looking at his face. He asked, “Can I have your number so we can talk?”......CONTINUE READING THE ARTICLE FROM THE SOURCE>>>>>
Without saying a word, I took his phone and dialled my number. He said thank you while I walked away without looking back. In the evening, I met him at the ward. This time, he told me I looked worried. I pointed at my dad’s bed and whispered, “That’s my dad.”
He said, “Sorry about that. He’s going to be fine.”
Later, I learned his name was Freddy. Later, I found out he was a new doctor. When he closed, he looked for me to say goodbye. That night, he called to ask how I was feeling. “I’m not feeling well at all. I’m scared,” I said, choking back tears.
He came by with snacks and sat next to me. It was around 11 p.m. He gave me a toffee, which I didn’t put in my mouth. My dad’s life was sour; I felt guilty trying to sweeten mine. But he sat there, watching me go through all the emotions. I might have dozed off, but he was still there. He said, “Just sleep. He will be fine.” I responded, “It’s late. You can go now. Thank you.”
I’d known him for only three days, but he connected with my sorrow as if we had known each other forever. He called around 2 a.m. when he got home. I said, “He died. He was waiting for you to leave so he could die peacefully.” I wasn’t crying when I said that. He didn’t say a word until I asked, “Are you there?”
At my dad’s funeral, he was there. At the graveside, he gave me his shoulder. When it became unbearably painful, he told me I would be fine. He was there at the thanksgiving service too. He asked me, “I can be the man in your life if you permit me. I’m not replacing your dad, but I can be something.”
In my head, I thought, “Why is this one proposing in a time of grief? Can’t he wait until joy comes?” Later, he told me he wasn’t sure when joy would come, so he had to do what he had to do.
We would go on to get married two years later, have twins, and then have another child before I could gather the courage to tell him, “You’re not my father, but you took his place seamlessly. Everything my dad wished for me to have in a man, you have. Thank you for making me feel human again.”
I was grieving when he proposed, but if he hadn’t, everything would have been very dark for me. He was present in my sorrow, a witness to how broken I was, yet he still called me beautiful. He gave our kids a home and gave me a story—a story I’m happy to tell after fifteen good years.