He’s going to die by the end of the year. Today, a doctor gave the man who replaced the father I never had less than six months. The cancer’s in his blood and his organs. The chemo worked for a while, and I hope I’ll live that long with the cancer I know I’m almost sure to get, but it’s now a date. A deadline that doesn’t yield or extend or make bargains. Funny thing about time is we’re always counting ahead, never behind. Three months till a birthday. A week to a marriage. Five months to a baby. We never look back and count the time that we already enjoyed, the moments that pass and no longer exist. I’m going to take pictures, videos. Hold onto anything I can of this beautiful person that will soon no longer be. We all feel inside like we’ll live forever, but it’s just not true, and we have to keep whatever we can to reassure ourselves that what happened happened, that the laughs and happiness, anger and fear that we suddenly can’t prove was even real weren’t in our heads, that the remnants of a person we once loved were ever more than that. I’ll miss you so much, and remember you forever.