[From the mind and heart of someone you know who is dying.]

Today you brought me joy.  Lying here, my body winding down in preparation to meet my God, I don’t get much joy.  You’ve sat by my bed  these weeks and given me your friendship.  You’ve read the newspaper to me, stopping to make comments on how humans take ourselves way too seriously.  You read that new book by the author I love, aloud, cover to cover.  You excused yourself so the hospice people could care for me, then returned and handed me a sip of water before settling in to watch TV with me, making  fun of the commercials.  You always started your visit with news about people we both know, and reminiscences of happy times.  Then, as I grew tired, you’d stay while I napped, knitting quietly, reaching out to touch my hand from time to time so I knew I wasn’t alone.  Finally, we’d pray together, and you’d say, “See you later.”   I knew that was true, either tomorrow or in Heaven.  You are a true friend.  You are true joy.