The California King seems miles across in the cold nights without my husband. In times before, I’d turn in the darkness and place my hand on his chest to feel the thump of his heart. He used to wear a clam-shell brace to support his cancerous spine. He died, but I held onto it, to hug when I’m grieving. I have cancer now. I miss him. I put his brace in bed, stuffed with a pillow and heating pad. Last night, my arm hit the carapace with a resounding thud. “It’s a hollow shell,” I said. “That sums things up.”
David Guerra’s background—journalism, nursing, administrative assistant, missionary, artist, business owner, long-time caregiver and widow—colors their writing. David lives in Berkeley, California.