You brought your wife to me at her start, my start.
She, in the wheelchair, detached; You, close behind her, laden with fear.
Then the seizure…
And the hubbub that follows in a clinic grown accustomed to the easy.
We spoke urgently. We got her to the hospital.
Then the scans and the biopsy…
You asked how long she had. I wrote it down.
Sealed it for you to look at when you were ready.
Later you said you opened it after she passed…
I’ll never forget that.
