Me and Amish Abe cherish our weekly visits with D and KA.
Scrubbed of grievances and politics, our conversations go straight to the core.
We all face death, but how and when the event presents itself is largely unknown.
I favor discussions about the inevitable,
and all the complicated and beautiful entanglements evoked by thinking about it,
but they are typically abstract.
That is no longer the case as we gather around a hospital bed in the dining room of their apartment.
The exchange is honest, never macabre, and surprisingly buoyant and soothing.
Although cancer cells are multiplying in D's brain,
they are not evident in his disposition, whit and storytelling skills.
In the darkness of the situation, these gatherings are unfiltered light.
