“Important thing is not the me that's lying here, but the me that's sitting on the edge of the bed looking back at me, and the me that's downstairs cooking supper, or out in the garage under the car, or in the library reading. All the new parts, they count. I'm not really dying today. No person ever died that had a family.”

“You ask me about tragic accidents? If I am on my tractor at my farm and it rolls over on me and kills me, that's a tragic accident. If I die in a race car, that's life. I died doing what I love.”

“I'm the one that's got to die when it's time for me to die, so let me live my life the way I want to.”

“Okay," I confessed. "You got me. I don't want to die. I'm terrified of death. I fear there's nothing beyond it and that this existence is the only one I'll ever possess. That's why I'm here."He patted my leg to give me reassurance. "That's why they're all here. Even the ones that believe in heaven and seventy-two virgins and every other good thing supposedly waiting for them in the afterlife.”

“Wait. You think I'm going to die? That's why you slept with me?”

“The place doesn't matter. It's the person. It's you and it's me. That's the important part. I happen to love where I am. In your bed that smells like you, surrounded by the things that make you you.”