Two Terrified Men

I once described Bob and I as the two terrified men of Mill Valley, a nod to the Two Gentlemen of Verona. We were so insular in our relationship that he couldn't have done his treatment without me and I couldn't have taken care of anyone else but him. This picture was taken on our deck, Monday the week Bob passed. It is the last time he was really outside. I rearranged everything specifically so he could watch the birds with the eye he could still see out of. We ordered way too much Chinese food because he 'wanted one of everything' and even then, I knew he was having trouble swallowing and chewing. It was only a matter of time until he aspirated food and choked to death. I watched him like a hawk but he did manage to eat safely- I pestered him about taking small bites and chewing his food well. He looks angry here because by then the left side of his face was more or less paralyzed. We were still laughing and telling filthy jokes and holding hands even though he looks scowley. I would have been on his good side but I needed to make sure he didn't miss things on the side he couldn't see out of. I remember the day was warm, and it was breezy. A lovely fall day. We even opened the awning we got ourselves for our 13th annivesary, that he always wanted for the house so we could sit and watch the sun go down without me getting burned. We both sat there are nibbled the food lightly. Eventually we stopped talking and just sat there. Both of us were terrified. He was terrified of what was coming. I was terrified of what was coming after...which I now know was with good reason. We got in more than a few arguments in the last months, which we realized too late was really the fault of the Keppra, an anti seizure medication. One of them was over "how much happier I (Steve) will be when this is all over (meaning when he was dead)!" Without missing a beat I said "The real hard part for me starts the minute you die. When you're gone. I'll be alone...dealing with whatever happens without your love and support." We both started crying because he realized I was just keeping my face together all these months and it was an act. And that was the last time we argued.  I am so glad he isn't here for what is happening with the country. I am glad he is not hurting anymore. He knows all the answers to the questions he had. 

HE would have been 73 tomorrow. March 29, 2025. I miss him terribly. Grief is awful.