My son won the lottery, kicked me out of the house, and said: “You’re worthless! Go live in a nursing home.” I wandered aimlessly to clear my mind. When I sat down on a bench, a homeless man walked up to me, smiled, and said: “You look just like my late wife…”

I felt no satisfaction in his downfall, but no sympathy either. He’d made his choices and would have to live with the consequences, just as Blaine and I had been forced to live with the consequences of his deceptions.

3 months later, on a crisp October morning, Blaine and I stood in the garden of our new home and exchanged the vows we should have been able to renew naturally over the years he’d stolen from us.

“I promise to love you, not just in spite of everything we’ve been through, but because of it,” I said, looking into the warm brown eyes I’d mourned for 15 years. “I promise to choose you everyday the way I would have chosen you everyday if I’d been given the chance.”

“I promise to never take our time together for granted,” Blaine replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I promise to fill whatever years we have left with all the love we couldn’t give each other when we were apart.”