139

To my love, a happy 139 months of being married together in love. I'm sorry I can't be more cheerful on this day, but I'm worried about my grandmother. She fell again, and I can't escape the dread that, despite a number of close calls in her long life, she's not going to be with us much longer. I'm distracted, thinking about everything from the last time we saw her - frail, but aware; mood swings that would take her from joking to despair - to what I'll likely eulogize when the inevitable comes. I don't want this day to be about looming death, but I can't escape it. I love you so much, and holding you last night kept me from being too adrift in a wine-dark sea of morbid thoughts.