Okay, I am being tested. I mean, I think I am being tested. Why else would I find myself willingly sitting with someone who is dying, whom I don't know all that well?
Because I have seen in just the last two months what a fine person he is. And because no one should pass on without another human nearby.
There are several of us taking turns with Gene, of course. Gene is at Rachel's house, and has been there for five days now. He responded at first to glasses of fresh cabbage juice, supposedly to keep him from throwing up so much. But his strength has been leaving his body each day. We think it is a matter of a day or two, or three, before he finally lets go.
We are all there for him, to ease his pain and help his last days and hours be as gentle as they can. I am returning for a few hours later this afternoon. That enables Rachel to be present at one of the Lubec Landmarks artist's receptions, as she does every second Saturday afternoon in summer (when the gallery shows change ... she's the organization's president).
I'm not scared, and I'm not upset. Rather, I am honored.
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