For Kathie

I wanted to talk about my mother in law today, who is nearing the end of her life. She suffered a stroke three years ago and another, more serious one, about a month and a half ago. As bad as the first was, the second left her paralyzed, unable to speak, and according to her doctors, it will soon take her life.

Kathie and I didn't like each other in the beginning. She was polite to me, and I was polite in return. But there was no instant feeling of warmth and fuzziness upon our meeting, nor anytime after that. In fact, it took an earthquake, an act of God, to bring us together in friendship.

I don't think there was one particular thing that made us become friends, but the earthquake put us in a position of mutual respect, somehow. We saw each other in a different light suddenly. I had always thought she was spoiled and placated, and I know she thought I was a bit lazy and, of course, maybe not good enough for her oldest son.

But we did become friends. We enjoyed each other's company and had a lot of laughs together. We'd go out to dinner and shopping when we all lived in California. I was very protective of her when we went out. I don't think she knew that.

Kathie suffered all her life from morbid obesity. People would often stare at her when we went to the mall or into a restaurant to eat. She knew it too, but pretended not to notice. If I caught someone looking at her, I would stare straight at them until they looked away in embarrassment. She once told me that a child asked her if she had a baby in her belly, and that child's parent make the child apologize. She'd made a joke of it, of course, but I knew she was sad over it.

I always felt that her weight would be the death of her, by heart attack or diabetes, or even maybe from a car accident (she fell asleep at the wheel several times). But I never thought it would be a stroke. I don't know why.

I remember the day she had the first stroke clearly. They had just moved from San Diego to Las Vegas and she wasn't thrilled about it. But she was in a great mood when she called, because her husband had just accidentally fallen into the pool, completely dressed, and came out sopping wet. She was laughing and I could see her in my mind. She loved to laugh.

We got a call that evening from my father in law, saying that she was sitting on the bed, and he heard her say she didn't feel right. He said he saw her slip down off the side of the bed onto the floor.

She'd been bedridden for the better part of three years since then. But she could speak, and she could move. And she was working on standing with the help of some contraption that had rehab set up in the house. She'd call us now and then just to cry and tell us how much she loved us.

Her laugh is gone now. She's trapped in a broken shell of a body that no longer responds to her. She's in pain all the time, I'm told, although I don't know how one would be able to tell that. I hope God takes her home soon.

I'll miss my friend.