The last time Sharie and I talked, we fought. Something I will always regret. The last time we went to bed angry, her scrunching herself into the tiniest peice of the mattress, me finally storming out, slamming the door, waking our sons, sleeping on the couch. I never knew. If I had known what would happen then what I know now, I wouldn't be here. But I also would have overcome any of that goddamn pride I mistakenly thought I was entitled to back then and apoligized. I would have begged forgiveness, got down on my knees, we would have spent that last night making love. But of course I didn't and the next day she was gone already to her friend Jodie's house, apparently to discuss my inadequecy as a husband, and I arrived late that day to the office, having had to drive my sons to school. I was mad most of that ride. Angry. But they made me laugh, promise to take them to the zoo that weekend. Was is it with kids and zoos? Why is it that all natural cure all? It doesn't matter. They left me all smiles. Already excited. They left me that last time. Their mother was to pick them up from school I told them, I be late, working at the office. I couldn't be there.
How was I supposed to know it was the last day I'd ever see those smiles, ever touch their hair, to hear those laughs. That last day. The day I died.
