Then, in August of 2001, Allen found a small canker sore on the bottom of his tongue. Doctor's gave him creams and pills but nothing could get rid of the sore. On New Year's Eve, Allen was diagnosed with cancer. Two weeks later a portion of his tongue and 30 lymph nodes were removed from his face.

Allen and Denise moved in together, and Denise left Sandwich for the Yorkville Police Department to help Allen get to his almost daily radiation treatments in Chicago. Doctor's said they had removed all the cancer, but Denise wouldn't believe them. It wasn't her nature. She wanted to hope for the best, but she braced herself for the worst. Unfortunately she was right. Four months after doctor's cleared Allen, the cancer returned more aggressively. The only chance of stopping it was to remove his tongue.

Allen had been thinking about proposing to Denise for a while, and with the surgery looming, they decided to get married while he could still speak his vows. On November 2, 2002, they were married in a wedding that was planned in three weeks. "It was great, though," Denise said. "I felt like a princess for a day, and I think that's how you're supposed to feel."

The cancer had spread deeper into the floor of Allen's mouth and throat. His tongue, throat and parts of his neck would have to be removed. On October 25, 2003, Allen went in for surgery. Denise told him this would be the time to say he loved her because the doctor's didn't think he'd be able to talk for a while after the surgery. Allen said 100 "I love yous" before the doctors removed his tongue.  It was the last time she ever heard his voice.

Communication was obviously the toughest part for Allen and Denise. Allen wrote everything in a notebook, or did make-shift sign language, pointing to the things he needs. Sometimes he tried to mouth words to Denise, but the surgeries had left him only able to part his lips about a half inch. "It was hard and is still hard," Allen wrote. "She would yell at me to stop playing charades." But arguments have stopped.

On January 21, 2004, Allen went to St. Louis to have more cancer removed. But the surgeon found a hopeless situation. Removing a small section was going to be "futile" with so much more cancer attacking his body. Allen was going to die. Faced with that, who cares about who didn't take the garbage out, or who left the light on? "He's teaching me to enjoy a little bit more of the little things in a relationship," Denise said.

Denise and Allen left their jobs and their benefits. They already had to rely on Denise's mom to make the rent payment. Right now they are applying for Medicaid. "It'll be kind of trial and error once we start submitting bills," Denise said.

On Valentines day 2004, Allen was still mobile, able to get around gingerly. He breathed through a tracheotomy tube in his neck and ate formula that was poured into his body. He was on seven different medications for pain which occasionally rises to a "10" and rarely falls below a "3", which forced him to hold ice packs on his cheeks. He spent his days doing the laundry and watching Allen's favorite show, "The Simpson's."

"I definitely don't like to think about the situation I'm in, " he wrote.  "I think about what my wife and her son will do when I leave for good and how she will deal with it. It's more frustrating than anger. I don't get angry very often at all. It's kind of like, this is the hand I was dealt, and I've got to play with it."

Denise says that Allen is like a freshly waxed car: Problems roll right off him. She, on the other hand, is like a tire on a hot tar road with problems sticking to her. Her friends have suggested she was put on the Earth to help Allen. Maybe that's her purpose, they say. "There's no proof to the contrary," Denise said. And proof is what she is looking for. She's not positive it all ends in a coffin, but Allen's illness has reinforced her negativity, not erased it. She jokes that Allen could restore her faith.

" When you go, you're free to haunt me again," she told Allen, laughing. "I'll come haunt you, but you can't move because I can't follow you 'cause the of the sandworms like in (the movie) Bettlejuice", Allen wrote back.

Since January 2004, Allen has often pondered the afterlife. "I've thought about this a lot lately, I hope it's  better and it lasts longer," Allen wrote. I'm just hoping in the next life, I am able to find her again." Every night, Allen writes on Denise's arm- one letter at a time with his index finger: "I Love You."

Even if it's not written down, everyone has a list of things to do before they die. Allen Valerius' list was written with a bit more urgency. It was three wishes long.

One was to take a cruise. Two, he wanted to take his wife, Denise, to Door County, Wisconsin which she remembers as the most beautiful place growing up. His third wish was to see the play, Phantom of the Opera. "I don't know how to explain it," he wrote, "but it's one of those guy gets the girl and evil loses out stories. Does that make sense?"

Many generous donations of vacation trips, time shares, and Phantom of the Opera tickets were offered to Allen and Denise. Thank you so much to everyone who reached out.

On Tuesday, March 16, 2004, at 2:30 in the morning, Allen Valerius passed away, holding his wife's hand.

The wake was from 2:00-8:00 p.m. on Friday, March 19, 2004 at the Larson-Nelson Funeral Home. Arrangements by Nelson Funeral Homes, (630) 553-7611.

Funeral services were held at 10:00 a.m. on Saturday, March 20, 2004 at the Larson-Nelson Funeral Home, 410 E. Countryside Parkway, Yorkville, Illinois.

Interment: Oak Mound Cemetery- Somonauk, Illinois.