“Well, Brook honey, in all likelihood your mama’s gonna die before me,” he began slowly. “So I ain’t gonna have no one to help me take care of myself. And I could get dementia. I’ve heard tell that when that happens, men can stop washing themselves, and they won’t let anyone help them. They can wind up getting a real bad infection. I didn’t want that to happen to me.” He finished his thought: “I didn’t want to wind up at the crematorium and have the undertaker think I was a female.”

this is depressing af