September 1, 2008 – I was relieved to see Marion was better today, and we decided to go outside, sit on the patio, be undisturbed, and be photographed. I brought her some biscuits to give to Izzy, because she is all about love, faith and family, and the ballet of affection that passed between the two of them for an hour was remarkable to witness, and a privilege, and I will post the photos shortly, and apart from this entry.
  I have written about Izzy and Marion, but not about me and Marion. Marion cannot remember my name, although she tries very hard and struggles to do it, and I tell her all the time it doesn’t matter, and it doesn’t, but it matters to her, this proud and gracious and deeply religious woman. I know she knows who I am.
  I read the Bible to her, sometimes, and she loves that. And I told her that Izzy and I had to travel in the coming weeks, and might be gone on  book tour, and she smiled and nodded and wished us luck, and then cried a little.  We are quite connected, she and I, and we communicate very well. Hospice work is often intimate, but this relationship is more than the usual.
  I could see Marion had something on her mind today – she never asks for anything, except to see Izzy – and I prodded her to tell me about it.
  Marion asked if I could help her remember Halys, one of her children, named, she said, out of a hat.
  She said she remembered the state troopers coming down the road to the farmhouse, and she remembers asking herself, “who’s home?” because whoever was not home might be done.
  And Halys, one of her three children, was  not home, and was gone, she said, “taken by God in a hurry” in a car accident one night. Halys was of great faith, she said, and she drove with Bible on the seat nearby, and was a nurse who cared deeply about people. You would have loved her, she said, she was crazy about her father, Horace, and did farm chores with him all the time.
  When Marion told the story, tears rolled down her face, and then she smiled, and nodded, and asked me to remember Halys, who died a long time ago, and  to tell her story, so that it wouldn’t be forgotten, and so I am happy to do that, grateful to do it. I was overwhelmed at the privilege of hearing this story, and I will honor it.
  Hospice work is, I think about stories, about hearing people’s stories as they travel to the edge of life, and making sure their stories are brought into the world, and are not forgotten. I will make certain that Halys is not forgotten, I told Marion. I can do that.  And I will.