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“I don’t know. I just don’t want to make it complicated.”

I lean into the table, catching and holding my son’s eyes. “You know, life is complicated, Owen. You’re going to face more than one sticky situation, but it’s how you deal with it that counts.”

“How would you deal with it?”

“I’d tell my friend that I’m happy for him, but that I wouldn’t mind hanging out with him too every now and again.”

Owen nods. “Yeah. Maybe I will.”

“Be honest, bud. Be kind. That’s all you can do.”

He shovels more poutine into his mouth, obviously wanting to be done with the conversation.

“Why don’t you text Colton and ask if he wants to come over tonight? I’ll order pizza.”

His eyes light up. “School skipping, skiing, and pizza. Cool.”

I smile. “Life is about living, Owen. Don’t forget that, okay?”

His smile falls just a bit, and he nods soberly. “Okay, Dad.”

Bed calls my name, but there’s a fire flickering in the fireplace and my wife is in the cutest pair of soft cream pyjamas with little white polka-dots. Her hair is down, and her face is clean of makeup. She’s never more beautiful than when she’s like this, relaxed and happy and pressed up against me on the couch with a glass of wine in her hand, red staining her lips.

Faye’s eyes follow me as I stand, holding my hand out to her.

“What are you doing?” she asks, but she slides her hand into mine. I tug her from the cushions, pulling her into my arms as a song plays in my mind, and I sway our bodies to the melody. Closer to the fireplace, I pluck her glass from her hand to rest it on the mantel. Then I pull her closer.

Her body still fits perfectly against mine, even though it’s changed in these last months. It’s gotten softer, fuller. Less strong.

I drop my face into her hair, inhaling the familiar scent of her. Like I’ve committed a thousand little last moments into my mind, I commit this one. It finds a home in the vault of valued memories.

I covet these moments with her in the quiet after a long day, when the kids are in bed.

Over the last couple months, I’ve been working through the reality I face—the reality I know they face. It hasn’t been easy, coming to the conclusions I’ve come to as I arrive at the conclusion of my life.

It hurts to think of what I’ve done, even as I know it’s right for her, for them all.

“I love you,” I tell her through the burn in my throat.

She tips her head back to smile up at me with eyes that are sleepy and tender. Eyes I thought I would grow old looking into.

“I love you, husband.”

“Promise me you’ll live your life to the fullest always.”

Concern darkens her eyes, but she vows, “I will. And so will you.”

“I will,” I vow against her lips.

I’ll live the rest of my life to the absolute fullest.

My reply washes away her concern and she snuggles into my chest. I continue to move our bodies to the melody in my mind as the fire flickers behind the glass.

I’m not sure what’s more kind. Sudden death you never see coming or this warp-speed travel to an end you can never truly prepare for. I’m not sure if I’d be better off to take an unexpected leap into the cold plunge of the afterlife or spend precious moments collecting all the little lasts.

I don’t know what the right answer is.

Everyone thinks they want time. Time to love. Time to prepare.