For Whom the Bell Tolls.

I am two thousand miles from my home, in the dining room of my mother-in-law. I have come here to see my husband's sister-in-law, who is in the last stages of brain cancer.

I have never been around dying people before. My sister-in-law cannot talk, but so far she has been awake and responsive to people around her. She is surrounded by her family, my brother-in-law and nieces, and her parents and sisters. She is cared for by the people who love her most.

I was afraid of coming here. I was afraid she would be in pain. I was afraid for myself that I would find the sadness overwhelming, that being faced with the loss of this wonderful woman who has been my friend for seventeen years and who has brought such joy to my husband's family would cause me to cry all the time. She is too young, her leaving this earth too tragic.

Instead, even though it is unsettling, I also find being around her to be strangely comforting. She is dying -- so must we all. I will miss her, but I am no longer afraid for her. I am afraid for my brother-in-law, some, but only because we live in uncertain times and being a single parent is very hard for anyone.

It is true that how we think of people tends to be colored by who they were when we first met them. Part of me has always thought of C. as the boy who kept getting into scrapes his first year in college, as the mischievous and charming youngest child. Even after his children were born, part of me just sort of marvelled at the thought of him as a father (even though his wife as a mother seemed perfectly natural).

He is a man of integrity and great strength. He is allowing his wife to leave this earth with dignity and love. He is maintaining normality and calmness for his children, yet not pretending that everything is okay. Today he said to me, "People die. It's part of life. I want them [his kids] to understand that." There is not a touch of maudlinness in any of the people surrounding my sister-in-law, and he has been careful to see that that is the case.

When they were married, for various reasons, people questioned how they could end up together. They seemed to be very different people. But they loved each other very much, and now, I think it's apparent how right they have been for each other all along.

So, there is the waiting. Tomorrow is N.'s birthday, and there will be a small celebration. I bought a card and some chocolates. Buying the birthday card brought me to tears for the first time since I arrived: how do you buy a card for someone when all of the cards speak of a future that will never be?

I will leave on Sunday to fly home, having said goodbye. I am very glad that I am here.