My wife is dying. There. I said it. We both know it is true. The cancer has returned and the facts are there. Medical science and statistics offer little hope for us. A second round of chemo is scheduled, but the odds are not good, a jumble of numbers that we try to manipulate to fit what our hearts desire.

The looming question that no one has an answer: how long?

Not long enough. It can never be enough. We decide to face it as it is, way too short.

Scrambling to do things. I search websites for information. “Tie up loose ends” is a common theme.
We start a list. Paperwork, taxes, bills. Stuff she has always done and now I need a crash course in how her system works. My mind keeps going in a different direction (part of denial) and I struggle to understand.

No matter what we do, I hear the clock ticking.

As she wears down and goes for a nap, I seek refuge and solace from friends.

The title of a Douglas Adams book is all I can think of to describe this moment.

The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Soul.

What you want and what things are can be such totally different things.
I want to spend every waking moment just drinking her in. Walking, talking, sharing memories, holding her hand and once again expressing my love for her.

Instead, we talk about when the credit card bill is due and how online payments work.

Her steady, logical, analytical and practical mind sees the checklist. She doesn’t want me left with things undone.
I want to hop a plane to the Bahamas, make a mad dash out fishing, stroll along the beach and watch the sunset, then maybe fly to Paris, stroll along under the Arc de Triomphe

Go, see, do, enjoy.

Instead, we prepare for tomorrow when we tackle the past due taxes and more paperwork.
**

Her favorite movie is The Big Chill. I can hear her singing with the soundtrack,

You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometime, you just might find, you get what you need.

It’s 4 a.m.

I hold her hand as she sleeps. She rests quietly.
Right now, I have what I need.

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