I keep thinking about what happens to my wife, Bess, after I die; there’s a recurrent image in my mind, about what happens to her after I’m gone, that I can’t seem to shake. Bess …| The Story's Story
I’ll admit a disappointing answer up front: I don’t know. Because I’m dying, I’ve been saying goodbye a lot, but even after a bunch of practice I still don’t know how …| The Story's Story
My wife, Bess, wrote this. For more context, see “I am dying of squamous cell carcinoma, and the treatments that might save me are just out of reach.” Jake is sitting on the couch besid…| The Story's Story
My wife, Bess, wrote this. It’s 11 p.m. and I’m shaving my dying husband’s head. We’re in the bathroom, lit only by a curlicue of nightlight. I’m wielding a heavy pair of metal clippers in my right…| The Story's Story
This essay is by my wife, Bess. “Are you taking care of yourself?” Francesca asks. It’s a fair question: my husband, Jake, is dying of a metastasizing squamous cell carcinoma. I say I don’t know wh…| The Story's Story