Satisfied.
Then:
“Are you scared?”
Children again.
Straight through the center.
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
“Of dying?”
“Yes.”
She accepted that.
No speech about heaven.
No insistence I be brave.
Just:
“Okay.”
Then she sat beside me.
That helped more than optimism.
I died ten months after the diagnosis.
Not dramatically.
No final board meeting.
No mystery signature.
No hidden second will.
My last weeks were mostly pain medication, sleep, short conversations, and people trying not to cry too loudly in the hallway.
Maeve was there the day before.
So was Ellie.
Nessa.
I gave Ellie Lorna’s plain gold wedding band early.
Not the expensive jewelry.
