A nurse.
A care facility.
Someone trained.
Someone stronger.
Someone whose job it was to carry part of the weight.
There was even a joke about hiring a stranger with strong arms and a professional degree.
I laughed through my tears.
Of course he had made a joke.
Even while imagining the decline of his own health, David had remained practical.
Then I heard movement behind me.
“Linda?”
I froze.
His voice was tired and weak.
I quickly wiped my face and stood.
“I’m here.”
He blinked at me.
“What are you looking for?”
“Your watch.”
“It’s in the nightstand.”
“I know.”
Then his eyes shifted.
He saw the paper in my hand.
Something changed in his expression.
Not shock.
Recognition.
“You found it.”
I stared at him.
“You knew this was there?”
“Of course I knew.”
“How long has it been there?”
He thought for a moment.
“About seven years.”
“Seven years?”
He nodded.
“After Frank.”
I understood immediately.
Frank was David’s older brother.
He had lived for years with Parkinson’s disease, and his wife, Joan, had cared for him at home almost until the end.
Everyone admired Joan.
Everyone said she was incredible.
Strong.
Selfless.
Devoted.
We praised her constantly.
But while we were congratulating her for doing everything, none of us seemed to notice what doing everything was costing her.
By the time Frank entered hospice, Joan was a shadow of herself.
She had lost nearly thirty pounds.
She was hardly sleeping.
She developed pneumonia.
The day after Frank died, she collapsed at the hospital.
David had been furious.
Not with Joan.
With the rest of us.
We had watched her disappear and called it love.
“You wrote this because of what happened to Joan?” I asked.
He nodded.
“I watched people tell her how amazing she was while she was falling apart.”
My throat tightened.
“I’m not falling apart.”
David looked at me.
Even weakened by illness, he could still give me that look.
The one that said he had heard enough nonsense for one afternoon.
“Linda.”
“I’m standing right here.”
“Your body is.”
I turned away.
He continued quietly.
“When did you last have lunch with Carol?”
I didn’t answer.
“When did you last go to your book club?”
“David…”
“When did you last sleep all night?”
My eyes filled again.
“That’s different.”
“No, it isn’t.”
