Goodbye to the Man Who Never Cared

My mother's surgery had failed. She had maybe three months left.

The grief sat in my chest with no one to give it to, so I turned to my boyfriend, Ned Henson.

"Are you busy?"

No reply.

Half an hour later, I tried again.

"Do you have time to talk? It's about my mom."

Another half hour passed, and Ned answered with a single "1."

I stared at that "1" for a long time. It was always like this.

When I'd run a fever of a hundred and three and begged him to take me to the hospital, all I got back was a "1."