I thought the best day was the day I met you. I mean, I didn’t think it that day, of course, but that changed pretty quickly once we decided we liked each other. Then you proposed and that was the new best day. But then we got married and our wedding was so beautiful and joyful and fun – man, was it fun – and it meant we’d be forced to spend the rest of our lives together. So naturally, that became the best day.
Then we had a daughter. And that – that was the new best day.
Until the worst day. Until cancer.
But we kept going, kept moving, kept having good days in between some really shitty ones. We spent time with family and friends. We traveled. We had another daughter and added another best day to our growing list of best days.
We made plans and we laughed and we loved and we fought and we freaking lived. We lived through the dark days spent in diagnosis and treatment, in pain and sickness, in fear and anger. And we got through – we get through – together. And I realize now that even the worst days are okay. Even the worst days are livable.
Because every single best day on my list includes you. And if you’re a part of my worst days, how awful can they be?