Losing a person is one thing. But losing someone through a long, slow tormenting process is another thing.

It was something you never really understood back in high school when your teacher told your class about it, at least not up until today.

You stare at your loving husband; he's wearing the same clothes from the accident seven days ago as he listened and danced at a hospital room along his favorite song. You smile endearingly as you watched your husband, who no longer remembers you. Whom not even one memory of you remain in him.

"Mr. Crawford" You called out to his surname, adressing him formally. He pauses a bit and looks at you, smiling, as if you're back in time. As if all of what's there for you is something he still recognizes and remembers.

"Ah, thank you. What was I supposed to do without you?" He spoke softly, as tears unconsciously unfolded in your eyes.