inbox; lizards from a last trip to Hawaii, her with new glasses, the birds outside her window, something she cooked, along with little notes that would make me smile. We talked about everything from how she wanted the end of her life to be to her fears, how illness affected a marriage, her views on euthanasia (she felt it should be legal), and how just utterly strange life can be.  Anne never once lamented about the hand that life had dealt her, and instead would comment on how she thought I was having a hard year.  In turn, I'd always say, "Oh honey, you win.  You win it ALL." While in hospice and lonely, I gave her a ring once given to me by a boy who wanted me to marry him. A tiny heart nestled into a gold band, it seemed to be the perfect thing for her to have to remind her of me when I couldn't be there.   When it came time to say goodbye, she gently held out her tiny hand and smiled.  "I have your heart."   Oh yes.  Yes, she does. "I'm worried about you," her brow furrowed just before I left her the very last time.  She never did say why.  The stress, moving to a new community, starting a new job, the complete life change and losing her was so much all at once. I tried to never show it to her, but with Anne, I never really had to say.  She just