Central Florida's Independent Jewish Voice
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NEW YORK (JTA)—For months leading up to my wedding, I was a bundle of nerves. Sure, I was worried about whether or not my dress would fit and if the swing band would be able to pull off the hora, but that wasn’t it. I was petrified that my fiance would die. I pictured him being killed by a bus while crossing the street or being blown up on the train by a dirty bomb. I envisioned him in a hospital bed, slowly succumbing to a gruesome terminal illness, or being struck in the head by a fastball at Yankee Stadium. Every morning when he kissed me...