"I saw him reach for you when he hurt," said the nurse.

"We've been reaching for each other in times of trouble for forty-three years. That's what hurts the most now; I can't reach for him because he has enough to bear. He needs a strong shoulder."

"What happened this morning?"

"He ate almost a whole bowl of cereal and then fell back on his pillow. Suddenly, he didn't know me, didn't seem to know where he was. That continued for almost an hour before he fell asleep. At least, I think he was asleep. He sounded like he was although he stared at the ceiling - his eyes wide open. I'm not sure what was going on." My hands clenched to stop the shaking.

"His creatin numbers are up, but his pulse and temp are good."

"That's what's happening then. His kidneys are beginning to fail. In a few days he may not know any of us." My mind was screaming 'not again', but my gaze never waivered from his face.

I tried; heaven knows I tried, over and over these past weeks, to get ready for this time, to prepare for his downhill run. Each time I think of a house without him to make it a home, the tears fall and I have to leave the room.

He reaches for me more and more every day. I lay my head on his chest, listening to the heart beat, the heart that will eventually be defeated. His hand rubbing my arm feels so good. I long for the time over two years ago when he wrapped both arms around me and held me close. He's leaving. Day by day, he's getting a little further away.

The hospice counselor came by yesterday, asking if I had made the final arrangements. Like a recalcitrant child, I promised it would be done by today. It's after five in the afternoon and it isn't done. Final arrangements? No, I'm not ready for anything to be final.

Our forty-three years isn't enough; the forty-five, if we count the two we dated, isn't enough. It passed too fast.

We have been married but a day - a beautiful day of love, laughter, and tears. A day of clinging in troubles or happy times. A day when our children were born in the morning, our careers moved in midday. It cannot be midnight yet. The coach can't turn into a pumpkin. The dance can't be over. Not when we thrill to be in each other's arms. Life is supposed to end when there is nothing more for which to live. We have so much to do yet, more to see, children to admire, sunrises and sunsets to enjoy. The night cannot be falling - can it?