“Who is that?” I asked my husband. Someone was texting him, it’s not that common.
“Guy I worked with for a few months. Got cancer. His wife had cancer and now he has cancer.”
“Oh no. Is he in the hospital?” I thought we might visit him.
“Don’t know. This is a big dude. BIG. I saw picture of him. He put on on facebook. I don’t have facebook, but someone showed it to me. He’s lost all kinds of weight. Like ninety pounds or something.”
“I told him I saw his picture – how much weight did you lose, I asked?”
“What did he say?”
“A lot. I’m almost done.”
“Is he in the hospital? Is he texting you from hospice?”
“Don’t know. I asked him, how long.”
“How long until he dies?” I laughed at my husband’s audacity. Scorpio moon. “You asked him how long he’s going to live.”
“Yeah, man. This is some biker dude. If I was dying, I’d want people to just talk to me normally.”
“Yeah, okay. So what he say? How long is he going to live?”
“He said, come on, man. Forever.”
“He said that?”
“Yeah. Damned Protestants. They’re all so confident.”
I laughed and shook my head. If he’s not worried, I’m not worried. And I thought of the non-religious. It seems it would be much harder to deal with something like this, if you don’t believe in God.