They didn’t know each other, and they only knew me in the briefest and most problematic of days.
One Was Dying. Another was Near Death. The third was During Grief.
I think of them now, years—and decades—later, equally grateful and humbled for what I learned while spending time with them. As always, I will try to change a little or a lot of their story to disguise each guy’s true identity.
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The Guy Near Death . . .
His rented hospital bed was in the living room, angled for him to see the Christmas tree but far enough away so his family wouldn’t trip on the presents stacked underneath the brightly decorated evergreen.
He was near death when I first visited.
He could talk. Could hear my prayers. Could squeeze my hand and smile. Read More →by