It hits me about this moment. When he still can’t find a foothold. It hits me. That I may witness his death. My life with him sideswipes me, knees me, rips me open—the first time he smiled at me. The first time we were alone together. The first time we kissed. All the places we’ve been. All the things we’ve seen and done. All the lonely moments we’ve filled with each other. All of that is… His foot reaches a crevice, and he climbs over the difficult section. He places his right foot too, and he shakes out his arms. Then he looks up, at me, and hot tears roll down my cheeks. Thank you. I
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