In sickness and in health

I’m losing him in pieces.

On the day we shouted our vows to each other over the sound of the breaking waves I never imagined that our live together would find me sitting on a series of waiting room chairs, wondering if this is the last time, or the start of another nightmare.

The tip of a finger here, a chunk of flesh from a wrist there. An unidentified mass from an upper eyelid. These random and rare accidents and ailments that befall him and I’m helpless to protect him from dangers unknown.

I can’t help but wonder if when the end comes will there even be enough left of him to mourn.

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