Yeah, yeah, yeah—I know; I’ve heard all the clichés:
-Everybody starts dying the moment they’re born.
-Your first breath could be your last.
-Mortality is reverse birth (okay, so I made that one up. But it’s true: your birth was accompanied by blood, water, and a spirit. You spend the rest of your life donating blood (or having it plungered out), ridding your body of water, and following (sometimes neglecting) your spirit.)
And yet, I didn’t realize how real death was until the thought glazed over my brain[1] that , were my wife to die today, billions of people would live having never known her. And that was too tragic to stomach.
I wanted to avoid the following reaction so common upon completing a post-mortem, semi-spousegraphical book:
(Sniff) “…”
“What’s wrong, Dear?”
(Sniff) “I…I…
(sobbing, a squeaky-tight voice) “I wish…I could … have… metthispersonbuttheydiedofcancerandlefthbehindahusbandandfourchildreeeeeeeeen…”[2]
So I am writing this pre-mortem. My wife is not terminal. She is not even sick. She is the mother of six, the carer of many more. She is healthy, happy, and happy to be healthy. She enjoys her life, and helps others enjoy theirs.
These Eight Things Make My Wife Terrific:
1. She Holds Personal Religious Convictions
2. She is Willing to Learn from Any Teacher of Any Age
3. She Cherishes Children
4. She Looks Young, Acts Young (Is Young), but Parents Wisely
5. Her White Rolls, Honey-Wheat Rolls, and Biscuits
6. She Has a Quick Laughter-Trigger
7. She Loves Pancakes
8. She Listens with Interest
[1] I love glazes on cakes. The glaze soaks in a bit, then forms a semi-hard crust. Most of my good thoughts are like that.
[2] Sob talking is such a phenomenon. It carries not a single iota of rhythm: you begin slow, then race through, stuttering all the while. The racing energy only lasts four or five seconds, so you are forced to cram as many words as possible into the brain-mouth conduit. 1 in 4 of all such instances come out comprehensible. But you only have four or five seconds; more than that and you are once again inconsolable for a good seven-eight minutes.
