I just got a call at work today from the husband of a woman I took care of almost every day for a month, who we sent to hospice last week. She passed away this morning, only 43 years old.

I’m so glad she’s not in pain anymore, but I keep picturing her husband at her bedside, sweetly taking care of her. One time I came in the room to see her sleeping, but propped up on the table in front of her was a card that said “Honey” on it for her to read when she woke up, while he sat and watched over her. He doted on her.

And I’m getting married in four days and boarding a plane to Hawaii. This is life, isn’t it? I wish everyone was as happy as I am right now, but some people are very, very sad. Sometimes when I think about it, I feel guilty for not being sad too.