Diary

Surgery Day- Sept. 28, 1998-4

10:32 a.m.

These words I write are not catharsis, for the peace that descended last night and enveloped us both stilled all care and concern. You said that I had wrapped you in a cocoon of strong and luminous calm, but indeed, beloved, Mother has brought it into both of us. As I drove home I felt the concrete, physical peace in which no sound could be discerned, carry me above the waves of sorrow and grief to our home, its protection inviolable. Peace to thee this night, sleep and rest in light.

10:36 a.m.

When I said I would call the Lord during your operation you said to me: "Talk to me also." And so beloved, I talk to you through these prayers that come as an unending stream indelibly etching the moment for all future time.

10:38 a.m.

The phone rings loudly and I answer. The nurse calls to Dr. Dixon somewhere in the operating theater and he comes on the line informing me that my wife and my bride, child of the Mother, has extensive colon cancer and that it is irreversible. He says with great sadness: "I am not able to remove this cancer! I have done bypasses but no colostomy. I will come by to talk with you in an hour to an hour and a half."