I knew about his illness. It had been going on for several years now. During the last phone call, I had the impression that it had become more serious, although he was trying to live out of a deep confidence. I postponed another appointment and made the long journey. When I arrived, he took me warmly in his arms. "Where have you come from now?" When he found out that I had come especially for him with no accompanying appointments, he was very touched. His granddaughter was there, a very bright girl. We drank coffee and shared life. The granddaughter made rhymes with her grandpa: "Grandma is lying in a deck chair, her grandchild think it's cool, in the foreground the bumblebees are humming, and in the flowers bees are buzzing." Then she laughs heartily and goes into an aside room to paint. Our conversation now circles around the disease. I try to be completely there. A lot is talked about: Fear and uncertainty, deep gratitude and a real trust. After three hours of shared life, I leave. The next day I read in an email: "Thank you so much for your precious closeness. It simply does me good - more than some medicines!
