I just wanted to say thanks to Becky Wilson for her encouraging comment last night about Dad's likely ability to hear us and to sense our presence, even when he is unable to speak or even to respond clearly. We had a powerful confirmation of this this morning when, after we had heard the bad news, Dad had a period of about two hours of relative alertness and responsiveness. It started about when Dr. Stadtmauer came in and was able to rouse Dad right away by saying once, directly, "Roger." The other three of us were completely surprised, because the doctor yesterday was unable to get Dad to come around, even by speaking much louder and applying several firm pats and shakes to Dad's body. But right away Dad opened his eyes and looked directly and for about a minute at Dr. Stadtmauer, squeezed his hand, and murmured, as if to acknowledge and thank him for everything they've shared over the past 6 years.

Shortly after Dr. Stadtmauer said good-bye to Dad, Dad was looking at us in a way he hadn't in days--his eyes still foggy and not quite focused, yet actually seeing--looking at us--and his murmurs and groans were expressive, and not merely the monotone, seemingly unconscious sounds of pain, discomfort or confusion that we'd become accustomed to hearing from him. We raised the bed to a sitting position, and Christine and I were able to talk to him on our own, and he was reaching out to us, and hearing and watching us, and murmuring in response. It was difficult to see him trying to talk and incapable of finding speech, but at the same time we were talking to him, telling him we loved him and knew that he loved us, and that we knew what he wanted to say--and hoping that we did. And Mom came around the bed, and he perked up still more, and tried feebly to reach out, so she hugged him and I put his reaching arm around her and held it there. And he tried to speak, and she kissed him, and held his head, and prayed with him and cried and told her she loved him, and that it would all be alright, that Jesus was near, and he was crying too, crying sounds but no tears. It was all a terrible, beautiful moment of shared pain, and love, and mutual comfort.