I feel selfish now that I want him to live a bit longer when before I was just wanting it all to end. I hate this part. I hate the not knowing the time. I hate packing up a house that I still want to be his home until he dies. I hate that he probably won’t get to walk me down the aisle. I hate that I’m still a bit in shock. And mostly I hate that I just want to pull the covers up over my head and wait there until it’s over, just like a frightened child.