My husband's cell phone rang while we were out having dinner Saturday night. He picked up, and I watched his face freeze.
"What is it, honey?" I asked, my heart beating faster. "What's wrong?"
He whispered, "Larry died."
Larry is one of my husband's best friends from childhood, a big-hearted guy with twin two-year-old boys. He'd been in a car accident. I burst into sobs, putting a napkin over my mouth so the people sitting nearby wouldn't hear. We quickly paid the bill, went home, said good night to the babysitter. I tip-toed into my kids' rooms, and planted long kisses on their foreheads. I thought about what would happen if I were never to see them again. But then, I think about that all the time.
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