two living angels

When Mark was sick, two living angels came into our lives. Ten years later, I am still grateful to both of them.

Tracy showed up in the hospital room one day. I immediately liked her. She was a fabric designer and had worked with Mark on a few of his projects. He clearly liked her a lot. She was one of the first people to figure out that he was HIV-infected, at a funeral, I think she told me, when he was weeping far harder than she would have expected.

Tracy was on her second marriage. Apparently, she and her first husband had a volatile relationship, fueled by alcohol. They had a horrific fight one night, pretty much made up, and went out to dinner on their motorcycle. They had a drink or two, and on the way home, he was driving when they were in an accident. They were both rushed to the hospital where she lay on a stretcher listening to her husband die. I don't think she was allowed to see him one last time. She blamed herself for months until she remembered that she had told him that she loved him the day before the accident.

When we discussed what to do with Mark, given that his partner was not ready until it was way too late, his mother could barely manage to visit him in the hospital, and his sister said there was no way he was coming home to her, Tracy said "I'll take him." And so Mark went to live with Tracy and her husband for his last six weeks. He got to live in a house that he could have designed, himself. He entertained visitors, planned his funeral, and slept in a giant poofy bed that reminded him of a huge marshmallow. He basked in the Arizona warmth and could sit by the pool during the day. I am deeply grateful to Tracy for providing such a perfect environment and a loving place to experience hospice.


My other angel was more personal. On one visit, I asked Mark if he wanted me to call any friends to let them know that he was in the hospital. Yes, he wanted me to call Nancy, an old friend whom he had written to the previous Christmas. He assured me that his letter contained the news that he had AIDS, so I wouldn't be surprising her.

I dutifully called and started to tell her the latest news, only to discover that he hadn't disclosed his status to her, but she'd suspected that he was sick. They'd been out of close touch for a long time but deeply cared about each other. I later discovered there'd been a rift that neither knew how to repair.

Nancy said "you know, when you get home from the hospital, you're not going to have anyone to talk to. Call me. I don't care what time -- you can wake me up -- and talk to me about your day." I was a little surprised and a little hesitant, but I took her up on the offer. In the evenings, I'd stumble into his sister's house, where I was staying, be fed something (thanks to the sister), give her an update, and stumble off to bed. I'd pick up the phone, use my calling card, and call Nancy in Texas. She'd let me ramble on and on, reassure me, and tell me that I was Mark's angel. In some sense, though, she was Mark's angel -- she helped give me the strength to go back the next day and the day after that.


There's so much cruelty and even carelessness -- lack of attention -- in this world. How reassuring to know that angels are here too, sharing the earth with the rest of us. Today I am deeply grateful to my angels and to all angels who walk amongst us.