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Posts Tagged ‘Leukemia

A Second Chance . . .

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Although I lost her fifteen years ago, the memory of my fiancée still lingers.

She was an aspiring model robbed of the opportunity to grace the world with her beauty. To this day, although her doctor assured me that the two were not connected, I still harbor doubts whether her desire to give me a child did not in some way trigger her cancer.

I can recall her fighting back tears as she looked in the mirror. The ravages of chemotherapy can be most unflattering, but she swore defiantly that she would be victorious against leukemia.

Gone was the long flowing hair, the voluptuous physique, the bewitching eyes, the melodious voice of innocence, and in spite of it all, it was then that the true essence of her beauty was revealed . . .

Her tragic death, and my inability to cope with it, left me despondent. I decided to never let another woman get that close to me again.

Her doctor suggested I join a support group. I had no desire to relive those two years filled with pain and anguish. Instead I opted to shut out the world and bury my feelings.

Luckily a coworker informed me that suppressed emotions were notorious for making their presence known in other ways.

My fiancée’s death rekindled my fondness for writing, and I recalled a desk and an old typewriter my mother had given me in my youth.

I began studying books on writing. I also developed a passion for classical and jazz music, dining at fine restaurants, museums, and late night drives to the beach. Although I was always alone, the prevailing thought that plagued my mind was that I would meet someone and fall in love again.

I started writing poems and short stories. It was a peaceful haven in which I could retreat from all my grief and sorrow.

Several years later, I was walking through Grand Central Station when an alluring young lady asked for directions to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. What came over me that day is hard to explain, but I convinced her that the MET was my intended destination, too, and that we should share a taxi. We sat at opposite ends, and it was my intention not to follow through with my farce, but when we got there, we never left each other’s side.

Our relationship blossomed to the point where I asked her to be my wife. I probably would have never told her about the love I’d lost, but I came home early one day unexpectedly and found her in tears. She asked for my forgiveness and explained that she had found my manuscript while cleaning out the closet.

From that day she has been my staunchest supporter and encouraged me to publish my story. Her tireless and unwavering devotion has illuminated the path from which at times, I seem to lose my way.

I pray each day . . . “May I always be worthy of her love.”

Bradley Booth

I Apologize by Bradley Booth

I Apologize by Bradley Booth Book Trailer

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Written by BBooth

April 12, 2013 at 10:30 am

The True Essence of Beauty . . .

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I have written countless of articles, but nothing saddens me more than this one.

My prayers and condolences go out to the family of, Eva Ekvall. In the hopes that similar to me, the pain, and anguish of losing one so young, will one day be replaced by thoughts of happiness, for the precious moments that were spent together.

Ekvall, the former Miss Venezuela died on December 17, losing a two-year battle with breast cancer.

Her death, in some ways parallels the story of the young woman I lost at the tender age of 22, after a two-year battle with leukemia.

Similar to Ekvall, she was an aspiring model, who was robbed of her opportunity to grace the world with her beauty. To this day, although her doctor assured me, the two were not connected; I still harbor doubt if her desire to give me a child did not in some way trigger her cancer.

What brought these suppressed memories to the forefront were the pictures of Ekvall with no hair, and the fact that she discovered the lump in her breast during pregnancy.

I can recall seeing my fiancée fighting back the tears as she looked at herself in the mirror. The ravages of chemotherapy can be most unflattering, and she swore and put forth her most valiant effort, as she tried to hide her tears from me, that she would be victorious against leukemia.

Gone was the long flowing hair, the voluptuous physique, the bewitching eyes, and the melodious voice of innocence, and in spite of it all, it was then that the true essence of her beauty was revealed.

“As I reminisce,

The way I often do,

Trying to find the words,

To capture the essence of you,

The way you smile at me,

The way you make me feel,

I still can’t believe,

That this love is real.

You’re beautiful,

In every way,

You’re beautiful,

What more can I say . . .?”

Unlike Ekvall, who had the opportunity to be an advocate and a crusader for breast cancer awareness around the world, for my fiancée, there was only me.

It would take me nearly a decade to find a way to keep my promise of making her death stand for something.

My thoughts are shrouded in what others characterized as an emotional, and compelling novel entitled . . .

“I Apologize”

Graphic pictures from Ekvall’s book, Fuera de Foco (Out of Focus), which chronicled her fight against breast cancer, took me back into my fiancée’s hospital room.

The machinery is the same, the pic line similar, and the effects from the chemotherapy the same, but the one thing that is different, there are no pictures of my fiancée’s battle for the world to see.

Her pictures though, are alive within me . . . the ebullient smile, the vivacious personality, her youthful playfulness, and the last time I saw her, are a vivid part of my memory.

“Pushing the doctor aside, I went into her room. Nothing was wrong, I told myself. I’ll wake her. Take her home. She wouldn’t have given up on us. I don’t care what they said. She would never have left me.

Never!

If one of us had to go, it was supposed to be me. Not you, never one as young as you.

Wake up. Please wake up. Do it for me. Open your eyes. Please open your eyes. Falling on top of her, I cried until no more tears came.

I don’t know how long I stayed. A nurse finally came in. Putting her arms around me, she led me out of the room.”

Bradley Booth/Freelance Commercial Writer/Author

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