It's hard to

write these days. It's hard to think. Hard to just let myself go at this

keyboard. A friend is dying.

As a 24-year

cancer survivor at this point, I am confident that she has broken a great

number of records among those labeled as "dying." More than

a decade ago, she was one of the first individuals in the country to take

Tomaxifen. While it was still considered an experimental drug, her church

and community helped raise money to cover trips to Texas and the expenses

involved in being able to gain access to the new drug.

Since that

time she has become familiar with many old and new chemotherapies. I sometimes

wonder if there's any cancer fighting drug that her doctors have not tried.

Those who know

her well consider her stubbornness to be what has kept her alive over

the past two and a half decades. In recent years, her faith has given

her tremendous comfort and peace. She may be the one person on earth who

has asked more questions about faith, God, and religion than I have.

Just last week

we were talking again about death and dying. Well, actually, we were not

talking about dying. She won't do that. We were discussing what comes

after the death of our bodies.

I told her

she could hang out here with me after she dies if she's still too stubborn

at that point to move on. "But I would be ghost!" she exclaimed.

"Won't that bother you?"

What's one

more? I responded.

You have ghosts?

Well, I don't

know. I haven't actually seen one around here, but strange things happen.

They've been happening on this property since before we ever built our

home.

Do you really

think some folks linger behind and don't go straight