A dear friend of ours is dying in Hot Springs in Arkansas. We need to be there, but we can’t. She has PLS, a flavor of ALS, but much rarer (peripheral).

She is taking last breaths as her body is shutting down. The neural breakers are being pulled. Nothing can be done.

We are dying a little death of our own. She is so dear. Her husband is so dear. So sad, so pointless.

We don’t need tots and pears, we need hugs, all of us, at Anne’s death, and they aren’t available right now for obvious reasons. We can’t meet to celebrate her life, her love, her sweetness.