Thy Word

The word came in this morning in the form of a sobbing phone call at the office from Amy which I could barely understand, "It's malignant."

Klondike is dying.

There's no other way to put it. There are no realistic alternatives beyond keeping him content, pain free, and spoiling him like crazy (these by the way are also my final wishes should my care come down to that).

Amy is not taking it well. Amy really has a hard time conceptualizing death much less encapsulating it. I suppose those of us cursed or blessed with death's face earlier in life have learned to adjust a bit more. That's not to say I won't blubber like a baby when I have to say goodbye to Klondike, but I also won't let one of these last days go by without having a bit more appreciation of our time together either

Thy word is a lamp unto my feet
And a light unto my path.
Thy word is a lamp unto my feet
And a light unto my path.

When I feel afraid,
And think I've lost my way.
Still, you're there right beside me.
Nothing will I fear
As long as you are near;
Please be near me to the end.