One of the great honors of my life has been to be present for a few hours of the final twenty-four hours of a good friend's life. I held his head in my palms as his wife and his nurse adjusted him on his bed, the last day of his life. Once he had slipped into the quiet beyond us. He was warm under my fingers, and his hair was clean, and he was angel and man, peace and struggle, united in that hospice bed.
Grace in life and grace in passing. It was last year that his wife and children lost him. That they lost him, and we lost him too. One life means so much. His did and does.