as we live dying

I have a friend who I enjoy very much. He’s quite a bit older than I. But that just means he’s like my grandfather or father or something like that. We’ve been friends for years. I’ve been to his family picnics and birthday parties and all of that. He is a gem in hiding. Everyone focused on his great compassion. Yet, he was incredibly intelligent and an astute thinker as well. He was full of energy and a dynamic conversation partner, when I first met him 6 years ago or so. We’ve talked about everything under the sun, with much expression and energy. His daughters are every bit as energetic as he is—rather, as he was. He developed some severe health problems and I watched as his energy was cut in half, then it was cut in half yet again. Now, it seems it has been cut in half again. He used to appear in public, looking vibrant and bright-eyed. Everyone thought he looked great. But I knew he went home and then collapsed for the next two days, to recover. I spoke with him briefly the other day—I knew if I spoke to him too long he would collapse for two days from our short conversation. I cried for him. His spirit, so full of desires and passion, lay trapped in a body which gives him only a drop of fulfillment. I still visit him. Next time I envision kissing his cheek, holding his hand and saying very little. Perhaps, I can ask him to greet my sister for me. He'll see her before I will. I'll tell him she can take my place as his conversation partner until I join them.