“That doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.”

He laughed softly.

It was a familiar sound, and I held on to it.

Soon there would be doctors to speak with, medicines to organize, relatives to call, and another long night of worrying about whether Walter was comfortable.

I didn’t know then how little time remained.

Or how often I would return to that conversation after he was gone.

All I knew was that my husband had made arrangements he refused to explain.