His brother texted him back. She’s beginning to fail. His texts are exhaustive, all the details are there. He clearly needs to write it all, sharing the falling apart of her body and the onset of his inevitable aloneness without her. He writes matter-of-factly, almost childlike, innocent in its lack of filtering. Would she want us to know all that? Perhaps she is beyond caring. He writes back, carefully selecting every word. This slow dying of her light has to be acknowledged but at the same time, what? What can really be said? I hope it’s painless, I hope it’s fast. I hope. I hope. What do I wish them? Grace.
