A dear friend of mine started hospice today. She is not expected to live more than a few more days.

She's been sick for about a year. The breast cancer she beat twenty years ago came back in her ovaries (and I mean that the way I say it--the doctors said it was the same cancer).

I'm going to miss her terribly. We don't see each other often. The last time I saw her she was in remission and had just gotten home. Rory was cruising around her house. We'd made plans to see each other twice in the last three or four months, but each time she had to cancel because of going back into the hospital.

She gave me something to do when I was a bored housewife trying to figure out something worthy to do with my time. She was vibrant and encouraging, with an incredible sense of humor. She was so, so healthy-- in her attitude, lifestyle, and, yes, how she ate. It's hard to imagine that light and laughter and love--she was in service her whole life, whether it was inmates or the elderly--is about to leave this earth.  I am not going to see her, I don't want to interrupt the small time her family has left with her. I just hope the funeral is after I get back from my trip to South Carolina. Or that she becomes a medical marvel and somehow beats this thing.

Update: Iris passed away yesterday around 4pm surrounded by her family.