I don’t want to walk this road of death with my beloved uncle; the man who has been a second father to me.
All I can cry this morning is "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus" as I think of an old hymn that we use to sing in our church when I was a little girl. All I want to do is hold his hand as he lies in the hospice bed and never let it go; to feel the warmth of life that is still in it; to gaze in his eyes every time he opens them and pray that he knows I am here with him; to speak his name and tell him again that I love him.
This death thing stinks and hurts and is completely uncontrollable...
except by ONE.
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus.