I’m at the airport. My plane leaves in an hour. My mom called this morning and said that the nurse that comes to the house told her that Bob my step dad has about 48 hours of life left. I changed my tickets and packed my bags. It feels so strange. People should not be able to disappear from this planet.

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I wrote that yesterday at Denver International Airport. Before the diversion to St. Louis because of the storms in Chicago. I got here in one piece, only five hours off schedule. My Aunt Barb is coming in this morning from Cleveland and my sister should be here tonight. Andy is flying out Sunday. Many people that love Bob are scheduled to come by today.

This morning we put the classical music station on for Bob. My mom and I sat with him and held his hands. He seemed to perk up when Mozart came on and my mom and I teared up a little when we saw him trying to make time with the music with slight head movements. His eyes are glassy and he comes in and out of awareness. While I was sitting there his eyes cleared, he looked at me, smiled a weak smile and said, “hello” and then nodded off again.