"Remember the day we took our vows? ", she asked, as she stood above his tombstone for the forth time this month. "It was the best day of our lives. I can still hear the charm in your voice as you swore to be with me through every word and opposites of life." She traced the edges of the concrete and ran her fingers across the letters engraved into the stone. "JAMES MCCOY. LOVING HUSBAND. BROTHER. SON. 1970-2015."
Her throat became parched, her voice cracked and a tear rolled down her left eye as she muttered, "Till death do us part". She broke down beside his tombstone and remembered how she looked him in the eye on the altar as they both echoed the phrase after the priest. She remembered how that phrase lingered in her heart, and how she told herself that death did not have the power to come between her and her beloved. And even if it did have the power, it's going to take a long while. Their marriage had just been 11 months old when death came through their door without knocking. It barged in and took her beloved on an endless journey. And death did them part.
