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She fell into bed, completely exhausted, and immediately crashed into a deep, but uneasy sleep. She tossed and turned as images, voices, memories and fears jumbled together into a series of nonsensical but disturbing dreams. When she awoke several hours later, she felt as though she hadn’t slept at all.

3:45 a.m.

She knew what time it was before she opened her eyes and looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside her bed. On nights like this, she always awoke at precisely the same time.

“Dennis, nothing is going to happen to you,” she said lightly but unconvincingly as she attempted to pull her hands free from his. “Really . . . I don’t think we need to have this conversation right now, do we?” She pursed her lips in a tight, disingenuous grin as she nodded slightly toward her son.

“Yes, I do,” he said sternly, both his grip upon her hands and expression resolved and firm. “I think this is the perfect time to have this conversation so that if, God forbid, something were to happen to me — or you — there would be no question about what action should be taken.”

It seemed as though they had been sitting in the car for hours. The weight of the topic, her son’s expectations, and her responsibilities bore down on her, making her feel as though she could not breathe and tempting her to simply open the car door and run as far and fast as she could in any direction so long as her feet carried her away from everyone and everything familiar to her.

Finally, she took a deep breath and turned to face her son’s insistent gaze.

“Earth to Mom, earth to Mom . . . ” He waved his hand in front of her face in an effort to get her attention.

“What, honey?” she asked as if in a daze, finally turning her attention back to him.

“Don’t you think we should get going? We’re going to be late,” he replied. “We promised Grandma that we would be there by 7:00.”

“What time is it?” She suddenly realized that she was completely disoriented, and struggled to focus on her son and his words.

They all knew. But none of them would speak of it. It was business as usual. On the surface. By all outward appearances. Perhaps they all thought that if they ignored the elephant in the room, it would eventually turn and go back out the door from whence it came.
Life does not work that way, of course.

His wife baked and cleaned, preparing the home they had shared for one than thirty years in just the same way she had every year. She conferred with him about the toys they would give to their beloved grandchildren. Whether they would prepare and serve the food they had traditionally enjoyed when their children were young and, in recent years, when they returned with their spouses and children to celebrate the various holidays and other milestones.

She stayed busy, puttering in the kitchen, addressing and mailing Christmas cards, preparing baskets of freshly baked treats to share with the neighbors, all of whom had lived in their homes at least as long, if not longer, as they had resided on that quiet street.

During those last weeks, he occasionally helped her with the preparations. And they enjoyed a few outings to the local stores to purchase gifts. However, each such individual trip was brief. Although he never complained, after more than fifty years of marriage, she could tell when he was getting tired. So she would feign displeasure with the store’s selection of merchandise, saying “Oh, this isn’t the kind I want. Let’s go home and we’ll look at the other store tomorrow to see if they have what we want.” Or she would claim that she was feeling tired and suggest that they pay for the items they had selected thus far, offering, “We can come back later in the week. I just didn’t sleep well last night and I’m very tired today. Is that all right with you?” Since he was a gentleman, accustomed to assuring that his wife was comfortable and cared for, he, of course, acceded to her wishes.

“So how did you do?” Dr. Nolan asked cheerfully, but expectantly.

“Well, I didn’t write the letter.” She had decided while driving to the therapist’s office to be straightforward, direct, and honest about her progress.

“I see,” Dr. Nolan replied matter-of-factly. “Do you want to tell me why?”