Last night I sat with a older patient who had no hair but a beautiful beret, daughter and grandson. We talked about goodness, appreciation for life as it is and the end of life. I made her a macaroni cheese[sic] dinner with some diet ginger ale on the side and I am luckier than anyone imagines.
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Everyone will wait here, in the time before if not for themselves, then for those they love where the dance of life escheats its anticipation into the spiral of demise that is part of life itself. Those months, weeks and days when a frail life can rage no longer against the light but before the light is gone and faded into its own waning glow through which only love and memory survive.
