“It’s going to hurt no matter what at this point, just look at us now,” I argue, my teary eyes finding hers in the darkness. “We’re better together. You’re in this with me and it’s going to hurt if you lose me now or if you lose me fifty years from now when we’re old and gray and sitting on my front porch looking at our grandkids and marveling over the life we made. And if it’s all the same to you, I’d like option two.”
