Sometimes the blessed hour does strike quickly.

The friend whom I talked about in the last post died early this morning.  Thankfully the doctors had put her on morphine the day after I wrote.  She never agreed to enter hospice.  In my reaction to her passing I’m reminded of C.S. Lewis castigating himself for wishing that his wife not have died yet. His pain had begun so he wanted hers to start over again, at least until he put the matter that way to himself.

Her death seemed to come so quickly because she’d been very private about the course of her illness.  That’s why I didn’t write her name in the last post and why I haven’t written it yet in this one.  News of her death is circulating among her friends now so I feel free to say her name: Marlene Brown.  She was a co-worker of Laura’s and a great support to Laura and me during Laura’s terminal illness.  I was blessed to see her one last time three days ago.  As Laura would have said, le hecho de menos.

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