143 - Last Days

March 15, 2001

Uncle Irv is dying. I watch him grow frailer, and see as he makes his accommodations. Reid and I went to visit one recent Shabbat. The living room soon filled with family, each greeting him with a kiss. "I feel like a mezzuzah," he quipped. I think I am witnessing what the hospice people call "a good death." Many things must conspire to make it so. I feel privileged to play a small part.

Two Hundred Twelve

Last Days

Guide me, Holy One, on this final journey,
Your hand pointing the way,
Your loving eye upon my face
As I seek my new dwelling.

Surround me with Your kindness,
Embrace me with tranquility;
Soothe my fears with the surety of Your care,
Even as I release my tears to Your custody.

Then shall I find Your eternal gift of peace,
Laid out for my notice and my strength.
Linger near, Holy One, through these trials,
Easing my way as I fly to Your keeping.

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