That ? does not really apply to me. My wife was sixteen years older than me, and she had children from a previous marriage. I became husband number two because husband number one failed to recognize the difference between her and a punching bag. I rescued her, and feel deeply in love with her in the process. We were together 33 years, 22 days. We were very compatible personally, and we enjoyed each other in all ways. Except for the end where she was dying of cancer, I loved every moment. While she was dying, though, I did everything she needed from tracking the times for her meds to cleaning her bedpans, changing her, and her bed. She tried to get me to stop, and I told her that I had wondered for 33 years if I was worthy of cleaning her bedpan, and I was going to take care of her in sickness, just like the vow said.