I saw my neighbor on the street the other day. He had to shield his eyes to recognize me from up the block. I hadn’t seen him since the holidays. He is a college professor. His teeneage daughter has looked after our cats on occasion when we’re away. And his wife is dying of ALS. She has kept her humor and from what my wife and I have seen, has not displayed any self-pity. Her husband told me she never feels sorry for herself, which is something so remarkable that I can’t exactly get my head around it.

My wife and I have helped them in small ways–cooking a meal, navigating medical insurance claims. But I remember seeing the husband last fall and he looked ready to come undone the stress was so great.

The other day, I asked about his wife and he said that she only has three or four months left to live. “You come to peace with it, you know, life doesn’t stop” he said, adding that he just hopes that she is alive long enough for their daughter’s sweet sixteen this spring. The daughter has poise and has been asked to grow up fast. He worries about her.

I hope his wish comes true. They deserve it.