She walked out my front door,
took a breathe and said, It's a beautiful day.
She said it twice - I didn't see what she saw.
It"s cold
21 degrees, the news said.
Not so beautiful, me thinks.
But I am not her, my days are not measured, as hers are.
This hardly seems like a woman
who spent 5 hours yesterday talking to Hospice people.
End of life care - no more curitive measures.
Just help to make each day, the best it can be.
My task was to help her make shadow boxes for her kids for Christmas.
She drove over by herself, look very nice - not a bit like someone who is dying.
I watched her eyes sparkle as she talked about her dad and his band
December 26, 1949 - the label says.
We went over the details and after I had a good idea of what she wanted,
It was time for her to go.
I emailed her the finished product and she loved it.
A friend was suppose to take her to dinner tonight.
Her friend was in her driveway - the house was dark and she wasn't answering the phone.
She was worn out by today and probably sleeping so soundly, she won't be able to wake up.
I will deliver her shadow boxes tomorrow.
Our relationship is task-oriented - sometimes that is the way it is.
I will pray for her friends as they pray for her.
She got a lot done today, maybe It's a beautiful day...
