Waiting for the End

For the past few days I have been staring Death in the face when I go outside to get the morning paper. This is because the man who lives in the house across the street, my friend and neighbor for the past 13 years, is inside there dying. We heard he is doing "hospice at home" from another neighbor.

Cars continually crowd the driveway of the patient. Every day there are at least three or four coming and going every few hours. Being respectful my husband and I have stayed away, allowing family and close friends to say their goodbyes without the intrusion of casual acquaintances such as neighbors like us. 

But still, every morning when I raise the shade on my front door's window, I'm immediately transported inside that house in my head. I see the scene. I know what's going on and it's not good. His wife, his children, his grandchildren, his siblings -- all gathered around, waiting.

If only we could all die in a puff of smoke, like a Disney-esque genie appearing out of nowhere only in reverse. That would be so much better. Surprising, to be sure, but not heart-wrenching and even kind of whimsical. If I were God, I'd do it that way.