October 27, 2026
Dean and I have been together for ten years today. It’s so hard to believe it’s only been ten years, it feels like we’ve been together forever, yet sometimes it feels like our first date was yesterday. I sure remember it like it was yesterday. He picked me up in his little red car, then like most teenage couples we spent our first date at the movies. The people sitting around us laughed when he did that stereotypical yawning then putting his arm around me thing, but I could barely look at him because I was so nervous. He had been my first official boyfriend and I had been his first relationship since middle school, but we all know middle school relationships aren’t legit. We had been each other’s first kiss, first loves, first everything really.
We moved in together as soon as we had both gotten out of school, to the dismay of my grandmother. She told us we were moving too fast, but by that time we had been together for almost five years. We attended different colleges, but they were only about a half hour away from each other so we rented an apartment in between the two schools. I remember the first time he had tried to use the dishwasher, he put entirely too much soap in it and just about flooded the small kitchen in bubbles. I made sure to show him how to use the washing machine so the incident wouldn’t repeat itself. He was an even worse cook, but I loved him.
He proposed three years later. We were on summer vacation at his grandparent’s house in Florida and he had taken me to a concert and asked me when we got in the car leaving the theatre. He was going to get on stage and ask, but he canceled it the day before because he chickened out. That was okay with me, I just wanted to bask in my happy moment. We got married in October, on the anniversary of our first date.
I would have had our first child last year. Dean was so excited when I told him that I was pregnant, he loved kids and the thought of being a father was so exciting for him. She was supposed to be a girl, but my body couldn’t handle the pregnancy. That was the first time I had seen Dean cry. He took off work and took me to the house we had stayed in that summer that he proposed, his grandparents left it to him after their passing. We stayed there for a few months, but eventually we had to come back home and face reality.
And here I am now, lying next to him, the saddest I’ve ever been in my life. I glance over, reading the words that I’ve read so many times in the past month.
Dean Michael Harris
Loving husband, son, and friend