he is next to me, 

the air between us 

a comfortable coziness 

that comes with almost 20 years of marriage,

our pillows propped behind our skin. 

his Bible resting in his lap, 

his floating freckles grip onto his 

strong and smooth shoulders, 

they've been his companions his whole life. 

even longer than me.

he leans over to me and says quietly, 

"when i die, 

i want you to use this language."

i wait. 

my husband, the pastor, the shepherd, 

the spiritual father to many.

"he was gathered to his people."

how fitting.