July 19, 2003 ~ 9:30 AM

I want to write my tale and see the words melt into the paper and disappear. I want to write it and then tear the words into tiny shreds and ignite the pieces and watch the smoke drift away carrying the tale with it. Go to sleep. Dream. Awaken to a new day where all of my family, each member, is in radiant health.

Instead, my denial is kicked, buffeted aside by painful reality. By visits from hospice. By the doctor’s words, “We can’t put the train back on the track.” “Have you given any thought to which mortuary you’ll want to use?” “Does he have any unfinished business?” Durable power of attorney?
Our son is dying/dieing/ I can’t even spell it!!! It just doesn’t look right to me on the paper. Dying. Die-ing. Steve’s body can no longer compensate. The diabetes has ravaged his once strong body and there is no more to be done but “make him comfortable”.

At a certain well defined moment during four of my pregnancies I experiences a sudden transformation from being pregnant to--“I’m having a baby!!!” I remember when it happened with Steve. I was almost eight months and  putting away freshly laundered baby clothes. As I held up a size newborn t-shirt  I could suddenly see and feel the real baby that would inhabit this tiny shirt. My Baby. With Robyn, my fifth and last baby, it didn’t happened until I looked down on the bed the second she was born. I think that’s what it will be like with Steve’s passing. I know that he will die soon – weeks, maybe months, maybe days. But I don’t feel it. I don’t see it. It must be denial even though I know it’s going to happen.

Three nights ago his death seemed imminent. He was unconscious, breathing sporadically, and his temperature had spiked to 104. Even the Hospice nurse who had dropped in for a routine visit thought the time was near. Jae and Robyn were home. Nick,  Marisa (his wife) and Amy came right over when I called. When Amy saw what was happening to her brother she called her husband. Jeremy immediately left the Saddleback Worship Conference he was attending this week. By the time he arrived 45 minutes later
Steve had managed to rouse himself from the stupor of impending death and was outside taking in the cool night air smokinga cigarette.
Not one to rush, Jeremy strode to the . When he saw us around the picnic table he looked at Steve. "Dude! You're supose to be dead!"
"I needed a smoke before I went" Steve replied with his distinctive yet now mirthless chuckle.

Maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel real. He has had so many brushes with death and turned around.

All I know is that we are all in God’s hands and when Steve’s time comes, He will be with us.