Every time I see Marion, I become more of an artist.

  August 25, 2008 – Izzy brings out the spirit of Marion, a loving radiance that comes through even on what she calls her “not-so-good days,” the closest she ever comes to discouragement.  Bravery takes many forms, I think, from the firefighters I met in the Argyle chicken barbecue at the Washington County Fair to the ability of people like Marion to step outside of  her own pain and fatigue and offer love and encouragement, even reassurance,  to others. I see this again and again in hospice, and I have a sense by now of how much Marion struggles to get through a day, but how that inner light never seems to go out, never falls to complaint, anger or self-pity. Never surrenders even to the edge of life.
  We were sitting quietly today in the hallway, and I almost didn’t take her picture because
she looked so much more exhausted than I remember seeing her, but as always with Marion, I picked up the camera and started shooting. She told Izzy some stories softly, stroked his head and paw, and then she turned towards me – she couldn’t quiet see me, even though we were close – and said, “what are you thinking?”
  I opened my mouth, and uncharacteristically, nothing came out.
  She couldn’t quiet recall my name, or she would have mentioned it, but she knows me well, shockingly well and misses absolutely nothing.
  “I was thinking about how lovely it is to see you and Izzy,” I said, startled, and recovering.
  And I thanked her.
  “Why, for what?,” she asked.
   For showing me how to do it, I said. She nodded, and then smiled.