" I want to go to dinner. Let's go out."

"Out? Oh, I don't think so, Dad."

"I feel fine, let's go somewhere on 39th street."

"ummmm.... I don't think that's a good idea."

"Then take me to Prague."

"What?"

"Let's go to Prague."

"You want me to take you to Czechoslovakia?"

"Yes."

"Why would we go there?"

"Why not?"

Our lives continue into the realm of the bizarre and absurd. My Father floats in and out of lucidity, with some days being better and others being much, much worse. Sometimes he gets angry and mean, and I have to walk out of the room for a few minutes. I know when I come back in, he will have no memory of anything he said. I know this is all normal for his stage of life and looming death: it doesn't make it any easier. It doesn't take away the pain or sadness it brings.

My faith is being challenged and tested lately. More so than usual. I have found myself mediating on the humanness of Jesus, he was born a man, he was a little boy with a family before he became the Saviour of mankind. The Bible sort of skips over 30 years of his life. As I drove to the hospital the other day, I was listening to the soundtrack to "The Last Temptation of Christ" - which is an amazing movie and I never did understand the uproar over it. It imagines Christ if he had walked away from his destiny. If he had married, had children, if he had not willingly been sacrificed. In the end, he realizes he has made a huge mistake, he wants to die so the rest of us can live. He wakes up on the cross; it has all been a dream he had as he suffered. He cries out 'It is Accomplished!' and dies. To me, it is one of the most moving portrayals - to worship his divinity, we need to understand his humanity. Do we presume to think he didn't struggle? Have doubts? Wasn't he scared? But despite this, he knew his destiny, he knew what had to be done.

I passed through the plaza as I listened to the music from that scene- one of the most moving a beautiful pieces of music I have heard- and the church bells were pealing almost in time. I wept for my Father, for me, for all of us. I tell people: "I'm not scared of death, I'm scared of dying." Death is as natural and normal as birth, and every bit as painful, traumatic, and life-changing. I can understand Dad's need to run away, the wild thought we all get of just getting in a car and leaving. I remember thinking that when the fist labor pain hit with Tyler. I irrationally wanted to get in my car and go home 'changed my mind, not doing this.'

I know when the moment comes, and Dad makes his transition from life to death, from this mortal coil to a spiritual existence in the cosmos, peace will come, for all of us. None of us want to die, but we all will. We all must keep the faith, and live our lives in hope of resurrection.

Dad comes home tomorrow for the last time. I am terrified of the huge undertaking, but this is the last thing I can do for him. This is what it means to be part of a family, we care for those we love. Dad would love visitors, and I would love company while I sit with him. Please don't feel shy or weird about calling or coming over. Thank you all for your prayers all these long months.