Forever After

This was my writing exercise from October 5th, where we were given the first and last lines of our story. My request is to get feedback on how I could move the reader more, to make them feel more of the pain in the story, more of the love, the joy, and even the sadness. How do I make the reader more able to feel the emotional pull of this story?

Their first kiss ended in bumped noses and giggles. He remembered it as if it was only yesterday. Fifty years later and she is still as beautiful to him now as she was way back then. Keeping this thought in mind, he sat up, groaning as the muscles in his back pinched against his spine. He ignored the pain to look over at his wife, sleeping safely beside him as she's been doing for years now... he almost forgot to count. He didn't realize how long he was staring until she woke up, her eyelashes fluttering in the sunlight pouring through the window into their small bedroom.

Emma rolled over and smiled at her husband, pulling him in and kissing him softly before climbing out of bed. She has always been slender, Carl thought, watching her slide into her robe, but when had she become so gaunt, so thin? He perched himself on his arm as she beckoned to him with a pale finger. She wants him to go with her.

Hand-in-hand, they walked into the kitchen, where Carl began to busy himself making omelets. Emma quietly got out the vegetables and as she was beginning to wash them, she started having dizzy spells.
"Emma, sweet, are you alright?" Carl asked, holding onto her waist as he helped her to a chair.

"Carl, I'm fine, I'm fine," she said, her voice wavering with what seemed like pain. "Could you bring me the veggies? I'll cut them up over here."
"Alright." He brought her the food on a cutting board with a large chef's knife. Setting them down in front of her, he noted the look in her eyes. Why does she look so tired? She sleeps constantly... It wasn't like Carl to not understand his wife, and he was becoming more and more worried as the moments passed.

Then the crying began. Emma let the knife slip from her hand to the board, folded her arms, and rest her head on them. She wept continuously, not allowing Carl to get a word of comfort or worry in. He wondered what was wrong.

"I can't do it, Carl, I just can't pretend nothing's wrong anymore..." Emma sobbed. Carl looked at his wife, very confused.

"What are you talking about?" Carl sat down and held her hands in his.

"Carl, I have cancer, remember? I'm dying... I thought I told you... but then again, it's affected my thoughts..." Emma looked at him, studying his face in a way only she knew how to.

"Emmy.... you never told me..."

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I thought you knew!"