My wife and I are preparing for the apocalypse in different ways

My wife has been trying, for the last six months, to teach me how to set up a survival shelter. She means a real survival shelter, not some dumb little cabin in the woods I can play at being Chris McCandless in. She wants to show me how to *survive*; how to build a shelter and make it liveable, how to find food when the means to purchase it are gone. How to collect dew for water. How to make a fire. How to protect yourself and the ones you love. And how to do it all without falling apart.<br><br>Because she didn’t just lose her parents to a car wreck. She lost her father to a car wreck. She lost her mother to the cold, awful truth that she failed him, and she failed her daughter. <br><br>It’s not true. It’s not her fault. But I know that woman better than I know myself, and I can see the guilt eating at her from the inside out. <br><br>She says she’s protected now, though. She’s going to survive the apocalypse, no matter what it brings. That’s why she’s building that shelter. She’s determined to make it through, no matter what it costs.<br><br>But she's not just building the shelter for herself. She's building it for us. And she's right. I need to learn all of those things, and to learn them fast. Because I can’t survive without her anymore. I haven’t for a long time. <br><br>It’s true. I have my ways of coping, and they’re much better than her way, but they’re just band-aids. Just covers for the pain. I’ve given up on ever not feeling this way. Imploring her to marry me just so she’d never be able to leave me, begging her to stay. It sounds insane even typing it out. But I did it. I begged. And she married me.<br><br>But I know. I always have. That as much as she loves me, no matter how much I may help her with her pain, it’s never going to be enough. <br><br>I’ve read the play. I know how it ends. And I’m not Hamlet. But I’m not Claudius either. I know that too. <br><br>I’ve always known exactly what I have to do. And I’ve always known exactly why. <br><br>It’s not because I want to. It's because I have to. Because I love her so much. Because the thought of her in pain is enough to make me want to rip my own eyes out. Because I’ve seen the way she is without me; the way she’ll be when I’m gone. I know what I have to do to make sure she’ll be okay, and I’m going to do it.<br><br>I’m going to help her survive. Survive the apocalypse. Survive me. And once I’m gone, she *will* survive. I’ve made sure of that, just like I’ve made sure she never finds out. I’ve made sure of it not because I’m a monster, or because I’m insane. But because I love her. I love her so much, and I’ve dedicated my life to making sure that she’ll be safe and healthy and happy, no matter what it costs. <br><br>And no matter what it costs.