When he held his first born son in his arms, he savoured every moment for he knew he had just minutes. His wife though, did not and he couldn’t bare to tell her. Nine months of carrying. Nine months of nausea that never dulled. All for seventeen minutes of skin to skin with his namesake.

When he cradled his first born daughter, he sobbed a little inside. He’d never get to walk her down the aisle. He’d never get to see her graduate. She’d be 16 and 241 days on this Earth when her light will go out. The how and the why he didn’t know but the date, down to the minute was predetermined and only he knew. He chose not to share this with his wife. It nearly killed her to lose their baby boy.
It broke his heart to see her mourn.
How could he witness this again. Would it change things if he told her? Would she appreciate the small things like him or grow resentful with God for putting an expiry on their babies.

When he held his wife’s hand in the hospital ward for the last time, the man who knew too much, squeezed a little tighter. He had seen the date forty years earlier and loved her a little more each passing day.

Oh how he suffered, alone with this curse. He could never bring himself to share his talent. Struggled in silence and perpetual grief. The man who knew too much. Just another ten years for himself. Ten years closing himself off to people. He’d lost so much already. He couldn’t let others get too close.
The man who knew too much!