I didn’t know it,  but this was the night before…

Death had come knocking a few times and he had always been able to push it away.  His doctors had rallied and pulled him out of bad situations.  He’d had the strength and the will to go on.  There was so much to live for and death would have to wait.

This time was different.  Hospice, death’s facilitator, was a part of our team now and all those medicines to ease the pain and promote sleep had been dispensed with a plan in mind.  It would allow death the space it needed for one final visit.

Nine years ago I sat on the edge of Leroy’s hospital bed with old pictures in-hand and old stories in-mind about a couple of young journalists who fell in love with news, sports and each other.  It would be a night of remembering.  I’ll never know why I chose that night to recall some of the craziest, funniest, and serious adventures we had shared together and apart, but I can tell you this, I chose the perfect night.

Maybe those hours of storytelling helped me more than it did him.  He never really responded, but I know he heard me.

I wouldn’t get another night.  This was the night before.



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