My Gmail is a priceless hoard of us making plans, telling inside jokes, calling each other “snoodle” and “bubbies.” I type his name into the search field and enter a world of the unscripted dialogue that filled our 9-to-5 existence. I become immersed in the coziness of our union. In hundreds of chats automatically saved to my account, we express our love for each other readily and naturally in our own private speech. This is a history of our relationship that we didn’t intend to write, one that runs parallel to the one authored by his uncontainable illness.
– Rebecca Armendariz in Chat History.
A heartbreaking story of losing someone to cancer and then reliving those memories through the chat logs. It’s a story of love in the face of death. A slow, painful death. It’s hard not to shed a tear after reading.
Perfect Rest
Read the entire letter. One of the most painful letters anyone would have ever had to write.
Comments Off
Posted in Commentary
Tagged death, writing