What a difference a year makes. Last year, friends joined BR and me in cheering in the MS150 riders. This year, we had to cross the line of riders to bring BR to Christopher House.
As we start our third night of what the hospice nurses call his body "actively dying," I'm trying to find comfort in the outpouring of support from our friends. Comfort in having Dede and Beth and Jordan by our side. Comfort in the many glimpses of memories that flash across his iPad screen. But for some reason, all they do is make me cry. Not a very comfortable emotional state.
Comfort is found in the ordinary. This is anything but. So I've put the Hello, Dolly DVD into the laptop, and I'm singing along -- just like BR and I have done with friends so many times before.