I don’t like to think about death, but it keeps happening to people. Friends, acquaintances, celebrities.  I’m not good at it.  I know people who are.  They say things like, “we’ve all got to go sometime,” as if that was an agreed upon term. In the movies, the dying wife always tells her husband to find love again after she goes.  I don’t know if that’s how I would want it to play out.  He would get to live and fall in love all over again. Insult to injury.  Maybe they could fall in love and she would be a shrew.  Needy.  Chronic halitosis.  They would have to sleep in separate beds her breath was so bad. That way, he could fall asleep thinking of me.