She tried desperately not to think about how much it was going to hurt. Because in her heart of hearts, she knew it was going to hurt. Even if they weren’t lying—even if she felt no physical pain—she knew it was going to hurt unlike anything she had ever done before. Because she knew she would be conscious. And if she was conscious, then she knew what she was leaving behind. And if she knew what she was leaving behind, she knew it was going to hurt.
But, she was trying not to think about that. After all, she still had a week left. A week left with her boys, her little men, her family. A husband who loved her. Two little sons who were going to do so much good in the world. A happy, healthy, wonderful little family. It was what he had always wanted. And she got it.
Of course—in a way, that only made it all so much worse. Because now she still had to do what she always knew she was going to have to do. It was an end of the world kind of thing, really, what other choice did she have? She was going to miss those boys—quite literally—more than life itself.