It is likely that you don’t remember that lovely day in October that started like almost any other, but turned into one of the most memorable days of my life. I should have known it would turn out to be an odd day when you uncharacteristically slept in until after 10 AM and lazily languished in bed until I woke you with a kiss to your forehead.
Dave and Lynn had arrived, along with others; we had a party to plan and only three days to put everything together. It took only minutes for you to assume your take-charge posture to mobilize the troops, while still wearing your dressing gown. The food would be pot-luck; we would have it in the sun-room. Everyone was assigned a dish to bring, including me, who was tasked to prepare ten pounds of mashed potatoes. Lynn protested that she should make the mashed potatoes, but you insisted that I could easily do them, despite my lack of cookery skills. You sent me on my way to buy “Yukon Gold” potatoes, as you suggested, they were the best for mashing.
Off I went dutifully searching for Yukon Gold potatoes, returning to the palliative care centre a few hours later, to find you fast asleep. You looked so white, frail and were struggling to breathe. The nurse said you did not have long; you died in my arms a few hours later.
I wish I had known that you sending me on an errand was the last time I would hear you speak. I wish I could have heard you say goodbye or sing one more song with that amazing voice of yours. Our twelve years together were an amazing ride. I miss you and I still love you as much now, even though you have now been gone thirteen years. It is unlikely that thirteen more years will pass before I join you, where ever you are.
All my love,
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