Of course I think about it.

How could I not wonder what life would be like without him? After all, the risk of him dying before me is pretty high. He’s a few years older than me, and he’s had cancer. Besides, he’s not exactly the healthiest person ever. He drinks, he smokes, he does pot, and he never eats right. Odds are, he’ll kick the proverbial bucket before I do.

So I wonder what it’d be like. If it’d be like he’s gone on one of his business trips and never came back; or like the time I went to Chicago for a year to study, and we just spoke on the phone. Would I still speak to him in my head, unable to let go?

Yeah, sometimes I even fantasize about big dramatic moments, seemingly directly from some cheesy romance novel. He’d suddenly fall ill and I, unable to live without him, would die of heartbreak. We’d walk into death together, facing eternity side by side.

Of course, that’s just me being silly. I know it won’t be like that; our lives aren’t big, cheesy romance novels.

I think it’ll be like this; one day, I’ll wake up, and he won’t.

That simple.

And I’d be incredibly sad, but I’d get through it. I wouldn’t die of heartbreak, I wouldn’t be incapable of going on without him; because that’s just not who I am. And he wouldn’t want me to be that person either.

I can’t be sure what would happen or how I’d react, but that wouldn’t be it. What I do know, though, is that I’d miss him. Like fucking crazy. I wouldn’t long for him, I wouldn’t pine for him, but I’d miss him.

He’ll sometimes say that people like us don’t know what love is. And sometimes, I’ll agree with him.

But most times I know that’s not true; because I know that when he’s gone, I’ll miss him. Sometimes I’ll even miss him so much I’ll feel like my soul left me to be with him. I know, because that’s what happened the first time I met him.

I also know that when I join him in death, whenever that may be, I’ll look for him in the white light (which I know isn’t real, merely the expansion of the pupils as your body shuts down, but still, I’ll look for him). I’ll walk straight up to him, grab him hard, and not let go again. ‘Cause I don’t think I’d be able to do it twice. That, I know.

One last thing I know is that I’ll never tell him any of this. For one thing, he doesn’t like it when I get to maudlin and romantic on him.

But mostly? I’m pretty sure he already knows.