Recently, John lost his wife Janet. For eight years she fought against cancer, but in the end her sickness had the last word。

　　One day John took out a folded piece of paper from his wallet. He had found it, so he told me, when he tidied up some drawers at home. It was a small love letter Janet had written. The note could look like a school girl’s scrawls about her dream guy. All that was missing was a drawing of a heart with the names John and Janet written in it. But the small letter was written by a woman who had had seven children; a woman who fought for her life and who probably only had a few months left to live。

　　It was also a beautiful recipe for how to keep a marriage together。

　　Janet’s description of her husband begins thus: “Loved me. Took care of me. Worried about me。”

　　Even though John always had a ready answer, he never joked about cancer apparently。

　　Sometimes he came home in the evening to find Janet in the middle of one of those depressions cancer patients so often get. In no time he got her into the car and drove her to her favorite restaurant。

　　He showed consideration for her, and she knew it. You cannot hide something for someone who knows better。

　　“Helped me when I was ill,” the next line reads. Perhaps Janet wrote this while the cancer was in one of the horrible and wonderful lulls2. Where everything is – almost – as it used to be, before the sickness broke out, and where it doesn’t hurt to hope that everything is over, maybe forever。

　　“Forgave me a lot。”

　　“Stood by my side。”

　　And a piece of good advice for everyone who looks on giving constructive criticism as a kind of sacred duty: “Always praising。”

　　“Made sure I had everything I needed,” she goes on to write。

　　After that she has turned over the paper and added: “Warmth. Humor. Kindness. Thoughtfulness。”

　　And then she writes about the husband she has lived with and loved most of her life: “Always there for me when I needed you。”

　　The last words she wrote sum up all the others. I can see her for me when she adds thoughtfully: “Good friend。”

　　I stand beside John now, and cannot even pretend to know how it feels to lose someone who is as close to me as Janet was to him. I need to hear what he has to say much more than he needs to talk。

　　“John,” I ask. “How do you stick together with someone through 38 years – not to mention the sickness? How do I know if I can bear to stand by my wife’s side if she becomes sick one day?”

　　“You can,” he says quietly. “If you love her enough, you can。”

　　【中文译文】：

　　我的朋友约翰总会有些事儿给我讲，他深知年轻人必须让比自己年长、阅历更丰富的男人多多启发。比如说，什么样的人值得信任、如何关心别人以及怎样才能活得最充实。

　　最近，约翰的妻子珍妮特离开了他。她与癌症抗争了八年，但最终还是输给了病魔。

　　一天，约翰从钱包里拿出一张叠起来的纸。他告诉我，这是他在家收拾抽屉时找到的。那是珍妮特写的一封短小的情书。纸上的内容就像是一个女生想念她的梦中情人时胡写出来的，旁边就差再画上一颗写着约翰和珍妮特的名字、被箭穿过的心了。但是这封短信的作者是一位养育了七个孩子的母亲——一个为活下来而抗争、生命可能只剩下几个月的女人。

　　这封信同时也是一个绝妙的秘方，它告诉我们如何保持婚姻的和谐。

　　珍妮特是如此开始描述她的丈夫的：“他爱我，照顾我，关心我。”

　　虽然约翰对一切都心中有数，但他从不拿癌症话题开玩笑。有时他晚上回到家，发现珍妮特陷入了癌症患者经常会遇到的种种忧郁中，他二话不说，开车就带着珍妮特到她最喜欢的餐馆去。

　　约翰对珍妮特十分体贴，珍妮特知道这一点。如果一个人比你更加了解一件事儿，你是无法将这件事儿对其隐瞒的。

　　信的下一行写道：“我病弱时，他帮助我。”珍妮特写下这句时，她的病情可能正处在某个恐怖却又美好的暂缓期。在病情急剧恶化之前的这个阶段，一切都和以前一样——几乎一样吧。这时候，你可以不痛不痒地企盼一切都结束了，也许永远地结束了。

　　“容忍我很多的不对。”

　　“守在我身边。”

　　对于那些喜欢将发表建设性批评意见作为神圣职责的人，信中还有一条很好的建议：“不停地赞扬。”

　　“确保我能得到我所需要的任何东西。”她接着写道。

　　她将纸翻到背面又添上：“温柔。幽默。善良。贴心。”然后，她又这样描述了那个与她一同生活的丈夫——她多半生最爱的人：“在我需要时你一直守候在那里。”

　　她写的最后一句话总结了其他所有内容，我可以看到她是如何若有所思地在纸上加上了这句话——“好朋友。”

　　我现在站在约翰身边，却连假装了解自己失去一个像珍妮特对约翰那样重要的人的感觉都做不到。约翰需要找人说话，有些话他必须说出来，而我却更急切地要听他的那些话。

　　“约翰，”我问道，“先不提对方得了什么病，就光说这38年，你是怎么跟一个人和美地生活过来的?如果某天我妻子生病了，我怎么知道我能不能挺住一直守在她身边呢?”

　　“你能，”约翰静静地回答，“只要你爱她够深，你就能做到。”