Debra A. Chong (8/23/65-9/11/06)

I tried to keep my word. I told you I would get you through, and that nothing would ever hurt you again. I pray that I did it well.

I held your hand to the end. The last words you heard were my telling you "I love you" over and over again.

You were the answer to every prayer I've ever had, spoken and unspoken. You were the same kind of crazy as me, and we were clearly meant to be. You were my best friend, my co-conspirator, my analyst, my patient, my lover, my life, my wife.

If anyone ever tries to tell you true love doesn't exist, that there are no such things as soul mates, tell them they're fools.

I regret we didn't have enough time to do the things we said we would, like go to Alaska or go horseback riding again. I regret that I didn't marry you sooner. I regret that the word "love" isn't enough to contain the feelings I had for you. I regret that there isn't enough time contained in an eternity to fully express the things you were to me.

I regret I don't have the world's ear to grab to tell everyone how special you were. How the world is an emptier place for not having your laugh in it. How your inner beauty dazzled me, how even though you insisted you weren't "Cindy Crawford-beautiful," I could have spent my days happily watching your face light up from delight.

Your smile made me believe in heaven.

I am forever changed by you. I hereby devote the rest of my life to making you proud of me, to being the man you made me feel I could be.

I miss you.

Tim