It’s hard to have happy thoughts when you know that you’re dying. Also, I still haven’t gotten over my wife’s death. She fell off a cliff four days ago, plunging to her death. She couldn’t have survived. I would’ve fell with her, but my leg got stuck in a tree branch. The tree isn’t too big. More of a lone freak growing from the side of a rocky mountain.

I’m upside down. The world looks better this way. I’m dehydrated, so probably also delusional. My head and shoulders feel heavy. Gravity is working against me. I can’t feel anything waist down. But that was my wife’s complaint for years. It’s not biological, it’s psychological. How could I feel anything for a woman who gave me no love or respect?

This trip wasn’t my idea. It was an anniversary gift from our son. He’s a hotshot lawyer, already earning more than I could ever make. That was another of my wife’s complaints. She married a teacher but wanted to live like a queen. It’s unfortunate that she died like a stray dog.

I’m laughing. No. I’m crying.

The sun is burning my skin. I need some water, maybe a bottle of gin. I’m crying again. I’ve tried to end it. But the tree just won’t let go. No matter how much I shake myself, I continue to hang like a bat. I’m even a failure at dying. My wife would’ve laughed and reminded me what else I had failed at.

Miserly husband.

Heartless father.

Dumb teacher.

Silly man.

She ridiculed me every hour of the day. And that’s exactly what she was doing when I pushed her off the cliff. But she was quick. Held on to me. And we both fell.

She’s dead. I’m still suffering.

Who really did win?

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