It is with acute sadness that I tell you my beloved husband Dr. Bruce Scott Brown (class of 1952) died in my arms on October 18, 2015. He’d had a cancerous kidney removed exactly one year earlier, and I thought we were home free, though probably he knew otherwise. That accursed disease lurks. Four months later other smaller cancers showed up on X-ray, and Bruce began chemotherapy. But in the end, it was pulmonary fibrosis that took his life. To have the one person you love most in the world die in your arms in his hospital bed is sad beyond the telling.
Bruce and I were married when we were but twenty-one years old. Our wedding pictures show two young people, madly in love, clutching each other’s hand as we, beaming, emerged from the Church. We were eighteen when we met. It was love at first sight. We loved each other so much for so long. Well, he was a wonderful guy.
