Idiot Bear

Christina arrived tonight, a bundle of energy and noise. She's brassy in a Boyd woman kind of way, full of stories, most of them mostly true. She loves her Cousin Mike -- always has. She's tough as nails and strong as steel. I like to tell her she's the only grownup in her house (she lives with my sister, my mother and stepfather, who has Alzheimer's, her brother and his fiancee, three dogs and two cats). She flew down because she needs to see Mike before he dies.

Michael napped and then got up at midnight and went out into the living room to welcome her. Like me, Christina doesn't travel light. She came in hauling a big suitcase.

"Grams sent some stuff," she said.

My mother sent some scented candles for me. Mike got some puppies and kittens temporaty "tatoos," a note and Idiot Bear, a stuffed bear with crossed eyes. She thought it might make Michael laugh, and it did. He took it to bed with him.

Angie Newsome came by today and spent an hour with me and Janet and Pat. We sat out on the deck and enjoyed the sunshine. We were able to get Michael out onto the deck for supper, and he ate the first "real food" he's had in weeks -- pot roast and potatoes, cooked for us by Susan Ihne, our executive editor.

I just can't believe how kind everyone has been. Coworkers have donated their vacation days so I can be home with Michael. Buddy Corbin, a hospice chaplain I've known since he was a church pastor in West Asheville, called and invited to take me to lunch just to listen.

Will Gardner, who I like to call the world's most obnoxious human, sent me a beautiful letter with a $5 bill for an ice cream cone to soothe my soul. He knows me better than I thought.

I smacked Will upside the head at a party once for telling an obnoxious joke. I knew where it was going. I warned him, and he told it anyway. I'm not a violent person but I had to follow through. Several people thanked me.

But I also know Will's pastor and he has told me Will is a kind person even though he's obnoxious. That kindness came through in this eloquent letter. I am deeply touched.

Michael seems to have stabilized, even gotten a little stronger. I remember when my grandmother was dying and my aunt took a short stabilization as a sign that Gramma would conquer the cancer that was killing her.

"She drank juice!" my aunt said. "She's going to be OK."

I was only 18, but I knew the ability to take in nourishment was only temporary.

I cared for my grandmther when she was dying. People didn't die at home in 1971; they were brought to the hospital when they started seeing dead relatives.

My grandmother's sister, Eunice had been dead for several years, but Gramma was convinced Eunice was there and made some tea. My father wasn't quite as comfortable as I was with this visit, and he decided it was time for Gramma to move on to a nursing home, where she died a week later.

People often see loved ones who have died before. I think Ellen will guide him and they and my father will sit on a riverbank and smoke cigarettes and fish for trout.

He's ready to go when the time comes -- far more ready than I am. With each passing day, I know the time is closer and it breaks my heart. I keep wondering if there isn't some bargain I can make with God to keep him here,