Someone I love is very sick. That is all the information I can share right now, because it's still very new and we're all still processing it--as always, with a lot of humor. I think our family laughs and cries and laughs when we don't want to cry. We did a lot of that today, laughing, our family who doesn't get together as often as would have been nice. There doesn't seem to be a lot of hope, coming from today's meeting with the doctors. Many times, the word "comfort" was said. None of us were in denial, but we're all far from acceptance, I suspect. We may all appear mostly steady, but I know something inside us all will break. What can we do but leave it all to God, whatever that means for all of us? The past two years, I've been telling myself, "We all die." But in reality, what I'm thinking is, "We all die, but not her, please, not him, and not me, not yet." Not yet, please. Not yet.