~o~
He was diagnosed with advanced lung cancer when his girls graduated from college. He wasn't surprised and neither was Bella. After all, it was normal for him to smoke while working on new tattoo designs or after work, out on the porch. She'd never bothered him about it and he'd never thought about the repercussions. Edward knew he'd die because of it and it was too late for him to quit, despite the doctor's advice. They gave him two years but he lived until his girls were twenty-nine.
One morning, Bella left for an early jog. At the age of sixty-seven, she still prided herself on staying healthy. She entered the house and found Edward, sitting in the backyard where they had created a memorial garden for the people they had lost. He was slumped over slightly, head tilted back, vibrant eyes shut, hair no longer auburn but gray. He wore his favorite jeans and a flannel over his faded old white henley. She took one look at him and went inside to call her daughters, cheeks dry and a sad smile in her eyes.
He died with a smile on his face. Bella knew wherever he was, he was happy. And more importantly, he was waiting for her to join him someday. But not now. After all, she theorized later on to her children and grandchildren, that Edward wanted someone to watch over them for a while. And who better than the woman he had claimed as his wife and best friend.
~o~