I hate the flu. I bet this is how it felt to be deathly ill in 1895. Like wtf I have to tell my wife and kids to stay strong and take care of the farm. I tell my oldest boy he is man of the house now and to take care of his mom and sister. He is 8. I cough into a napkin and there is a spot of blood. My wife begins to weep. My wife’s sister escorts the children out. She knows I’m near my end. I thank her for being so kind to me. She nods and pushes the children into the living room. I turn my head towards my wife, as much as I can turn it. I whisper into her ear how much I love her. Our marriage was out of passion because neither of our parents had much money. Thankfully we got land in the Oklahoma land rush. We’ve made it work. I whisper that I love her. I cough meagerly and she plants a kiss on my lips and I let out my final breath. She cries but she is strong. That’s what I loved about her. Eventually they move on.