The True Meaning of Marriage: A Moment in the Bathroom
I was in my bedroom, carefully applying mascara, when I heard the sounds coming from the bathroom across the hall.
My father was groaning in agony, and luckily, my mother was right there, helping him through it.
At the time, I was a self-absorbed twenty-something, juggling relationships and wrapped up in the whirlwind of my own life.
But this moment between my parents stopped me in my tracks.
My dad moaned again.
“It’s okay, Chris,” my mom said, her voice soothing. “I’m here.”
It was the beginning of something I hadn’t fully understood—my father’s battle with the painful side effects of prostate cancer. It was a struggle that would only worsen over time.
As I finished my makeup, the sound of my father’s discomfort echoed through the walls. I paused.
I was trapped in their moment, unable to escape the raw reality unfolding. Then came a clank—the sound of something being knocked over.
My dad, unable to control his movements, had made a mess. And my mom? She would clean it up.
“I’m so sorry,” my dad murmured.
“It’s okay, Chris,” my mom reassured him. “I’m here.”
After I finished getting ready, I sat on my bed with the door slightly cracked open.
