Death is never a subject people rush to talk about—and trust me, Nate is the first one to run the other way. He treats the topic like an unexpected knock at the door from someone you’d rather pretend you’re not home for. But real love… real, grown-up, lifelong love… has a gentle way of nudging you into the conversations you least want to have but absolutely need. Love doesn’t just celebrate the good days—it prepares you for the hard ones, too.
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So we sat down, took a deep breath, and did the uncomfortable work. We handled the legal documents no one wants to look at. We completed our living wills, signed our last will and testament, set up life insurance, and went through every piece of paperwork couples tend to push aside for “another time.” It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t cozy or romantic. But it was responsible. It was caring. And now? It’s done, and that alone lifted a weight I didn’t even realize we were carrying.
Our financial future is solid. Our plans are written, organized, and ready. We’re investing with intention, building a foundation that gives us not only retirement goals—but peace of mind today. We’ve made sure that if life takes an unexpected turn, neither of us will be left drowning in confusion, grief, or old unanswered questions. We’ve chosen to protect each other not only in life, but in every chapter beyond it.
And yes… I’ve even planned my own funeral. I know, it sounds wild—but to me, it’s comforting. I know exactly what songs I want played. I know the outfit I want, the style, the makeup. I want the moment—however heartbreaking—to still feel like me. I want the music to hold warmth, the flowers to reflect my joy, and the memories to bring softness instead of heaviness. Everything is written down so Nate will never have to make those decisions with tears clouding his mind.
Now Nate? Oh, Nate doesn’t care about any of that for himself. He shrugs, laughs, and says, “I don’t mind what happens to me.” But I know his heart. His lack of concern isn’t carelessness—it’s devotion. His only worry is me. If he goes first, he wants life to be smooth and secure for me. He wants the mortgage gone, the investments growing, and my world steady. He wants to be sure I’ll never sit alone in the dark wondering how I’ll manage. That’s his love language—quiet preparation.
Sometimes he jokes, “You’ll probably find out I left you a secret fortune—millions hidden somewhere.” As if money could touch the pain of losing him. It couldn’t. Nothing could. But that kind of teasing? That’s exactly who he is—soft, thoughtful, trying to lighten the heaviest parts of life with humor.
Because what we’ve built isn’t just a marriage. It’s a lifetime stitched together, piece by piece. It’s the inside jokes that wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. The way he can tell when I’m about to cry—even before I know. The way he finishes my sentences, and the way I can read his eyes across a crowded room. It’s twenty-five years of choosing each other through joy, frustration, forgiveness, and every messy moment in between.
We’ve had seasons. We’ve had conflicts. We’ve had days when we didn’t understand each other and nights when we had to swallow our pride and talk things out. But no matter what, we always return to each other stronger, softer, more connected than before. And through it all, one truth has never changed: I wouldn’t trade this man for anything. Not for the world, not for a second chance at anything. He is my person—shoes on the floor, unread messages, and all. There’s a comfort to our love now, like a favorite sweatshirt: broken-in, familiar, warm, and full of memories you couldn’t replace if you tried.
As we look toward the future, I feel no fear. Only gratitude. Only hope. We still have so many mornings to wake up together, cups of coffee to share, road trips to take, and nights to laugh at the same old movies we’ve seen a hundred times. There are still chapters waiting to be lived, stories waiting to be told, and blessings waiting to unfold.
And yes, there will be more planning—because lasting love isn’t just passion. It’s responsibility. It’s commitment. It’s choosing each other today, tomorrow, and the day after that.
And I choose him. Every single day. For as long as we’re given.
