Woody and I almost made our fiftieth wedding anniversary—a marriage filled with adventure: fly fishing, backpacking in mountains; living in exotic locations like New Zealand and Alaska; and retiring to a beautiful cabin high in the Beartooth Mountains of Montana. But the last two years proved traumatic when the monster Glioblastoma tore apart our dreams for retirement by stealing Woody's memory and sense of time and place, zapping his energy, stamina, and balance until standing and walking were impossible. The beast ravaged my love and instilled indefatigable fear in my heart and mind—the one who loves and cares for him beyond the bounds of human compassion and marital devotion. "If you need me, call me!" was his oath to protect me, and all I could give him in return was my promise. "I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER AND THEN SOME!" Together we fought but in the end, my Woody grew weary and wanted to "go be with the Lord." Now I sit alone in silence, surrounded by a shrine of oversized pictures of my handsome cowboy and I yearn for "Then some" which is heaven. Soon, my love! Soon!