Together to the end

My darling Ray died two days after saying ‘I do’

Glancing across the dance floor, I saw him… A tall, handsome man with the loveliest smile. He’s a bit of all right, I thought.

I was at a nightclub with a few friends, having a good time.

Next minute, the handsome man was beside me.

‘I didn’t believe in love at first sight until I saw you,’ he said, grinning. Cheesy, but it broke the ice. His name was Ray and, at 55, he was 18 years my senior. But we just seemed to click.

A first date turned into a second, then a third… Before we knew it, we were a couple.

Ray had a daughter from a previous relationship, and he was great with my Brett, then 18, and Kayleigh, 8. His silliness always had them in stitches.

We loved going away, too. Our favourite place was Tenerife.

‘This is the life, eh, Tracy?’ Ray would laugh as we basked in the sun on the beach.

Then, at the pub on New Year’s Eve 2012, as the countdown to midnight began, Ray got down on one knee. ‘Marry me?’ he said. ‘Of course I will,’ I beamed. ‘Let’s get married in our place…tenerife,’ Ray said. A beach wedding? Perfect! So we started saving, deciding to wed in 2018.

But our happy bubble burst last November, when Ray suddenly went off his food.

It wasn’t like him. At 6ft 1in and 14½st, Ray loved a good meal.

We put it down to a tummy bug.

But, that December, he started throwing up green bile two or three times a day.

Worried, he went to A&E at Rochdale Infirmary, and had tests. Then he was transferred to Manchester Royal Infirmary for even more investigations.

In January this year, doctors found a blockage near Ray’s bowels, and performed bypass surgery to clear it. But, after, he continued to lose weight.

My once big, strong man was disappearing before my eyes.

Then, in February, Ray had another examination, deeper into his intestines.

The results were devastating. ‘It’s duodenal cancer,’ a doctor said, gravely. ‘The duodenum is the first part of the small intestines.’

Distraught, I broke down.

But the worst was yet to come.

‘I’m afraid it’s not treatable,’ the doctor went on, predicting Ray had just three to 15 months to live.

I felt my world crumble around me.

Over the next few months, Ray’s weight dropped to just 7st. He became weaker, had no energy.

‘I want to die a happy man,’ he told me.

‘What would make you happy?’ I asked, my eyes filling with tears.

‘To see you in a wedding dress,’ Ray smiled.

I wanted more than anything to become Ray’s wife. But he was deteriorating rapidly.

Our dream of a Tenerife wedding was slipping away with every passing day. But family rallied round, and my niece contacted Gift of a Wedding – a charity that helps terminally ill people to marry.

Amazingly, they agreed to

Ray’s silliness always had the kids in stitches

help us. And, over the next few days, they collected donations of flowers, a cake, bridesmaids’ dresses, suits – all from local businesses. I was overwhelmed by the generosity of strangers.

A local bridal shop even offered me a dress. It was bittersweet trying on gowns, but seeing me in a wedding dress was Ray’s final wish.

‘It has to be perfect,’ I said, picking out a beautiful, strapless dress in ivory.

Two days later, on 20 May this year, Ray and I got married.

By now, he’d been moved to Springhill Hospice, where his room was decorated with balloons and flowers.

Family gathered around Ray’s bed. He was too ill to get up, but he looked so smart in his suit. Then my dad Eric, 69, walked me into the room. And, when Ray saw me, his face lit up. There wasn’t a dry eye as we said our vows. ‘I’ll love you forever,’ Ray told me. I clutched his hand as we were pronounced husband and wife. Then we played Ed Sheeran’s Tenerife Sea. ‘We couldn’t go to Tenerife, so Tenerife has come to us,’ I told Ray with a wink. We had a buffet reception, and Ray didn’t stop grinning. ‘You look stunning,’ he told me later.

Everyone left when Ray got tired, and I climbed into bed next to him in my wedding dress. I just wanted to be close to him on our wedding night.

The following day, doctors warned his time was coming to an end. So family and friends came to say their goodbyes.

Then, on 22 May, Ray took his last breath. My heart broke as my husband slipped away.

We’d been married for just two days.

I tried to be strong for his funeral the following week.

Then, at the start of June, I flew to Tenerife with family and friends to sprinkle Ray’s ashes on the rocks on the beach, and say a final goodbye.

‘This is the life, eh, Ray?’ I smiled sadly.

Ray was my world, my soulmate. He was the one to put a smile on my face.

So, for him, I have to keep going...

I climbed into bed next to him in my wedding dress