It's so strange to think that he's going to die. Even as close as he is now, even after watching his decline, slow at first but so much faster every day, the idea is hard to grasp. It's almost surreal, the idea that he is going to go from alive to dead within the next few days, that he'll die at 40.

 Last night, while cleaning out a drawer, I found the love letters he wrote me while we were dating. The cleaning came to a halt pretty much immediately, and I spent the rest of the night curled up in a ball with them.

 Our 7th wedding anniversary is June 4th, and that will also be the two year anniversary of his first chemo treatment. I was just thinking to myself that more than 1/4 of our marriage has been spent fighting cancer. We were supposed to have so much longer. We were supposed to get old, and have grandkids, and retire, and spend our 50th anniversary on the beach, maybe get arrested for having sex in public. How is it possible that it will end like this? This can't be real.