Catholic Singles

Friends,

Got a call today, 01/18/12 my story As She Sleeps will be published in Chicken Soup For the Soul, Marriage" will keep all posted on when it can be found.


AS SHE SLEEPS
BY: MARK ANTHONY ROSOLOWSKI

As I sit in a chair next to her, I watch as her chest rises and falls with each breath. I listen to the sound of her breathing, a soft comforting sound. I reach out and hold her hand; she stirs, but does not wake. Instinctively her hand closes onto mine, like she has done so often before. I kiss her cheek gently, I whisper, "I love you." Still asleep a smile spreads across her face, she has heard me. I sit back into the chair, still holding her hand and I think, does she know how much I love her, does she know how much I care, and does she know I am here.

I remember the days of our youth, two teenagers in love. I remembered how I loved to hug her and to hold her, to feel her arms wrapped around me. I remembered how I asked her to be mine, for now and for all time. I see the tears in her eyes as she looks at me, not answering at first, then a smile and a soft yes. I see us fall into each others arms; I remember the smell of the rose I gave her. I wonder if she dreams of this as she sleeps.

I see our wedding day, two young adults, not children anymore, too young some will say, but we are in love and we know it is a true and deep love. I remember how nervous I was that day, my knees were weak, and I was holding her hand so tight. When she said, "I do", I saw her sweet gentle smile, I remember the kiss at the end of the ceremony, and I remember the smell of the roses in her bouquet. I wonder if she dreams of this as she sleeps.

I remember the day our daughter was born. How I held her hand. This time she was scared, she was frightened, I held her hand, telling her I was there for her. I remember the look in her eye as she saw our daughter for the first time. I remember her soft smile as she looked at me and mouthed, “I love you. I remember the smell of the roses I gave to her after our daughter was born. I wonder if she dreams of this as she sleeps.

I see the day our son was born, the day I nearly lost her and our son because of complications of the pregnancy. I see how I fell to the floor, and on my knees I unashamedly cried and asked God to please let them survive. I remember how close it was that I lost her and our son, but they survived. It was a long recovery, but I remember the smell of roses I had delivered to her room. I wonder if she dreams of this as she sleeps.

I remember our 20th anniversary, I took a vacation that week, and I remember cooking dinner for her that night. She came home; I had made steaks and baked a cake. We celebrated with our children. We exchanged gifts, after we finished eating I put “Color My World”, our song on the stereo, and we danced, we embraced and held each other tight. I remember the smell of the 20 roses I gave her that night. I wonder if she dreams of this as she sleeps.

I am drawn to a recent Columbus Day Ball. I see her in her wheelchair, how embarrassed she was when I took her in the chair onto the dance floor and we danced, we danced to “The Dance”. We were alone on the dance floor, no one wanted to intrude on us. After the dance I knelt in front of her and we hugged we held each other tight. I remember the smell of roses from her corsage. I wonder if she dreams of this as she sleeps.

As she sleeps, she breathes her last; she is tired and needs to rest. I look at her and stroke her face, I run my fingers through her hair, I hold her hand tight, tighter then I ever did before. My tears fall from my eyes onto her cheeks as I kiss her again and say good-bye. As I rise, I smell the roses, none are in the room. I ask the nurse where the aroma is coming from, she answers she doesn’t smell them. I know now, as she sleeps, she dreams of all of this