“Parksy, you’re not just my first thought, you’re willfully my second one and my third one and every one thereafter, because when I am dead”—grimace over at her for saying the D-word—“Sorry. But when I am, that’s what they’ll say about me. That I loved you. That I still love you. That even if I die, when I die, and I’m old and I’m ready and god willing you’ve died first because otherwise—up front,” I turn to our friends and family. “—sorry to everyone.” I turn back to her. “If I die, when I die—it will echo through space and through time, and it’ll brush up against the edge of this universe
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