John

I almost picked up the phone to call you a few nights ago. That was the first time that has happened. What I wouldn't give to be able to call you. What were you doing Sunday night? What is it like to be dead?

I finally got the results of the autopsy. I feel like I have been holding my breath all this time. The waiting is over. I was so torn between wanting to know, and not wanting to know. The next step is to absorb the details of the report. I haven't even looked at it yet. Just knowing it is there is a good thing. Betsy read it, and gave me her first impression. I am so relieved that it seemed to be more of a "natural cause", than the fault of someone else. That would have been intolerable.

Betsy said she is glad you didn't know how bad your heart was. She called it "old people disease". You would have hated having it, with every fiber of your being. In a strange way, I'm glad you didn't know too. On one hand, if you had known, you could have done more about it. On the other hand, if you had known, you would have had to do more about it. What would you like? To eat all the tacos and pico de gallo you want, or to have to diet and exercise all the time? Would you not have been a truck driver? Would you have rather gone the safe route and gotten some dumb job in Louisiana that you hated? Are you sorry you died, or is it OK to be dead? I almost want to die myself, just to see what you are doing. Just to be with you again. (Don't worry, readers. I'm not going to intentionally die.)

Anyway, I love you Bubbles. I still do, and I always will. You showed me what a good husband is. You showed me what a good man is. You showed me what a good person is. You showed me what a good life is.

The tears are finally able to flow more freely.