I want to write about how beautiful, horrible, rewarding, and agonizing it is to watch someone you love slowly die. I want to be so brutally honest, you, the reader will need to take a knee after reading. I want to write this because I want to help someone else who might be here one day. Because nobody told me how to do this. He should have been gone by now. My husband was given a six-month prognosis six months and 15 days ago. The colon cancer had spread and there were too many fronts to fight. John said enough was enough and got his affairs in order, as they say. He retired from his job. We flew to Tucson to visit the new granddaughter. We drove to Oregon to visit my dad. And we got used to our new routine of John home all day, every day. My me time suffered, even though John was trying not to be “underfoot.” We fell into the new steps of our routine quite easily, while we each silently counted the months. Then the pain started. The tumor in the pelvic bone was poking at him. “