One day you can see your life flash right before your eyes and not even know what happened. You could simply be walking down the street, maybe even going for a jog, when that person that is half asleep driving their car on their way to work. But they spill the coffee they quickly got from McDonalds on their lap. They go off the street. Right at you, and you never saw it coming. Never got to tell the world good bye. It wasn't like that for me. I knew I was leaving my life as I knew it. I knew what was coming. I knew how exactly how I was going to die. I knew why I was going to die. I knew everything. Why you ask? Why was I going to die? Why did I know everything about my death? How did I? That's something better told in a story, one that starts from the very beginning. The one that ends my life. Honestly, I never thought the word "life" was that big of a word. To me it held no meaning, just something every person has, until they lose it. I look to my wife over my newspaper that I don't even really read. It's just something every man and husband should do. Makes you feel more like the "man of the house". "Mind passing me the coffee? Sort of need it to stay awake at work dear." She brings the cup of coffee to me not even looking at me. It's been like that for awhile, no interaction, no love. I look at the coffee that hasn't had anything added to it, yet. "Do you mind giving me some sugar? How about some cream, darling? Not a big deal, it's just been like that forever." She whips around to me from the pancakes she's making for our daughter, rage filling her eyes, "I'm not your maid, or servant! I'm not just here to make sure everything for you is perfect, and your life is wonderful! I'm your wife! I've had enough of this! You have your own two hands and two feet! Heck, there's not even something mentally wrong with you, that I know of! Make your own fucking coffee from now on." She turns away again. Dear little Haley looks up from her pony coloring book. "Ooo, mommy said the "f" word." We both act as if we hadn't heard her and I go on, "No, I'm just supposed to go to work nearly every fucking day! Bright and early in the fucking morning! Bring home the fucking money that this family fucking needs to fucking survive! But it's too fucking hard for you to put sugar and cream in my fucking coffee, so I can stay awake at this job I have that gives me the money! Makes perfect sense. Fucking perfect." "That's eight "f" words daddy." I look at her not even really meaning to and notice how much she looks like her mother, and I hate her for that. "Enough, Haley." "I'm just saying that's eight dollars in the sw-" "I said enough!" She runs away crying, and Lillian starts to go after her, but turns to me before leaving the kitchen, eyes looking right through me, "Have a wonderful day at work. Maybe you can pick coffee up someplace, they'll probably be better at making coffee to meet your needs better than me."