Bens and I walked in to a subdued bedroom. Four tall, strong guys stood around the head of a bed, on which sat their father. Bens knelt next to him and gently held his hand. I touched the man's hand, and prayed God would bless him. His hand was pale and cool. Bens looked at me, a deep sadness in his eyes. This man had been his loving mentor through his teens and early twenties.

We helped him back into bed. "Benjamin and Megan are here to see you," his wife said, leaning over and rubbing his legs. Her dark eyes were strength, sorrow, longing and resignation. She looked at him with love. He looked at her, his eyes mirroring hers, so alike they almost seemed siblings.

His gaze wandered to me. His brown eyes are imprinted in my memory. His eyes were longing longing, wanting resolution, connecting, trying, being determined. I looked back into his eyes, wanting to express love and respect and compassion, feeling helpless and inadequate.

Bens squeezed his hand goodbye. We left him surrounded by his loving, sad family. Today we were told he died just twelve hours after we left. Please hold his family in your love and prayers. Thank you.


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