Page 27 of From the Beginning

I wasn’t supposed to lose my wife.

A roar was growing in my chest. I couldn’t keep it down. I was pissed.

I was angry.

I was hurt.

I wasn’t supposed to lose my wife.

I sank to my knees in the snow, my face screwed up tight, not giving a damn about the wetness seeping into the denim on my knees.

She was only sixty-one. We should have had twenty more years. At least.

But I lost her to a damn disease she tried to keep herself from.

Cancer took my baby granddaughter, and then it took my wife.

When would it end?

When would it be enough?

I fisted my hands in the snow, and let the pain pour from my mouth, the sound guttural. My shoulders shook, and I let it out.

I cried for my wife.

I cried for my family’s loss.

I cried for me.

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