In 2012, I lost my best friend to pancreatic cancer. Mary Rose was a former lover, and sister-like dear, dear friend. She had a great retirement package, savings, a beautiful home, but her life was cut short.She was at peace with the situation at the end of her fight, and had six-years to get ready. The long goodbye helped, but my grief at her loss was devastating. The deeply connected day to day-ness of our relationship meant that, when she was gone, I was left with a huge hole in my life. Margaret, Alyssa, and I were the “Mary Widows,” I forget who jokingly coined that phrase, but it stuck.