Over the almost 12 years that my wife and I have known each other, I have probably forgot more conversations that we have had then I would care to admit. There is however one conversation that I will never forget. It is a conversation that we have had to have two times too many. It is the conversation that we had tonight.
It was the “What would you do if I die?” conversation.
This was not the light-hearted, half-joking “What would you do if I die?” conversation. This was the real deal. As in, here as all the passwords to our bank accounts and here are all the bills that need to be paid and I don’t want to be buried in the ground, conversation.
It is a conversation we had about four years ago, shortly before her surgery to remove her last tumor. To put it simply, it is the worst conversation I could ever imagine having.
It has been about two weeks now that we have known about this surgery. Until tonight I have been handling it very well. I haven’t cried. I haven’t allowed those worst case scenario thoughts creep into my head. Until tonight. Until that conversation.
It is now sometime past two in the morning, long past the time I should have fallen asleep. But I can’t. I could only stare at the ceiling fan spin round and round so many times before I got up, not knowing where I was going, and wound up in front of my computer.
So here I am, doing my best to fend off the negative thoughts and fears that are trying so hard to take over. While I sit here, endlessly babbling away on the keyboard, the person who means the entire world to me is peacefully sleeping in the room next door. I suppose I should take some solace in that fact. She is not worried enough to be up thinking about this. Maybe I shouldn’t either.
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