Her face was pale, whiter than my girlfriend’s alabaster skin. Her cheeks were hollow, ones that belong to someone that hadn’t eaten for a month. ...er lips, though painted red, appeared to be dry, parched. I tried to smile and got off a weak ‘Hello’ in return. ‘Can you help me?’ she asked. It was strange as my body began to response to her before my mind did. My heart began to beat quicker. My mouth became dry. ‘With what?’ My voice cracked nervously. ‘I’m lost and can’t find my way home.’ Her. I wanted to be sure we left no stone unturned. I don't think we did, and the result was that we milked two extra years from the Grim Reaper.Diane's death was almost festive. She insisted we all celebrate her life instead of mourn her death. We tried. When we shifted to palliative care, our kids came down, and a steady stream of friends and neighbors poured through our doorway to offer support and eventually condolences after Diane slipped away. Bruce and his wife Mindy became my mainstay. I. More

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