What is Love?

Three times in my life I have had the honor of sitting in a hospital room with a dying friend for a few hours or an evening. Just to give a really tired spouse a chance at some rest that cannot be had in the context of a hospital room. In this case I sit here with my oldest fly fishing associate. He is really sick and he has been worn to a frazzle by the chemo protocol that he has been riding on for some time. I don't mean to infer that he is on death's doorstep, but there is no doubt in my mind that his place in line is not all the way around the block from the door.

I know this man really well. We have fly fished together for years. We have seen the wonder of God's creation from a knee deep location in a trout stream. These events give men a view into the soul. Their own as well as their compadre's.

I struggle with sickness as a component in life. I have to wonder why some forms of death have to come slowly and painfully and drag over several years time? I can typically put the full force of my coping skills into just about every crappy circumstance, but I have yet to find a way to remodel my view of sickness. We could just as easily have a universe where accidental death and old age are life's only perils. I am not really clear on who opened "Pandora's Box" but if there is any fact that supports the mythology, I am tracking the responsible party down in the afterlife and kicking their ass.

So back to my question. What is love? Is it a whole lot of things that are really difficult to articulate? Why would a man spend any time sitting with a person who is dying? Is this not a futile waste of time. Does it not make sense that since this life is short, we should not waste any of it sitting around waiting for someone else to die?

Maybe; HOPEFULLY; God provides additional mercy for those making the transition to another existence, and maybe the long drawn out process is more about helping the people that remain make the adjustment to life without a particular life.

I do think right now that if I am destined to suffer for some period of time before my end comes, I want to go out like a Plains Indian. Put me out on a cold day with an old blanket and let me die of exposure. Going to sleep in the cold cannot be any worse than letting a fresh faced "Doogey Houser" make guesses on just how much poison he can give you without killing you. I'll take six hours of shivers and a "nap unto death" anytime. Maybe I'm a big "wuss" and this is taking the easy way out. Just let me know if you really think throwing up until you die of dehydration and starvation is a better answer.

I will say, the guy lying in the bed over in the corner is fighting like hell to stay alive for someone. I know him well enough to know he isn't scared of death beyond worrying about his family. There is tremendous honor in the way people live their last months suffering in quiet dignity.
I do know that he and his family are experiencing the full force of love as they walk down this crappy road. So maybe that is what....

I guess I have all night to sit here and try to figure this one out.