In a surprise move, Sybil decided to get baptized yesterday. A priest came to her hospital room and several members of her family joined us for the short service. As Sybil had no middle name, she followed the custom of borrowing one from a saint. She chose "Julia" after Julian of Norwich. It was an interesting choice, as she picked a name that, unknown to her at the time, belonged to her great-grandmother. I think she received a great deal of spiritual comfort from the ceremony.

Earlier in the day, Sybil's oncologist was very blunt in describing her chances (or lack of them) to her and her family. I was not in attendance, but I'm sure it was an uncomfortable moment.

Comfort has been elusive for me lately. It seems as though a thick fog of unhappiness envelopes me. I am almost totally without motivation or interest. Last weekend I took a rare opportunity to leave the house and venture the long walk up to the Lincoln Park Conservatory to see their Spring Flower Show. It was an unseasonably warm, bright sunny day. However, neither the flowers nor the weather could cheer me.

I cried a lot last night, for the first time since this horrible poolpah struck us. Lots of people say this is supposed to help, but it didn't. Maybe I'm just not done yet.

This really is the cruelest month.

Matt Donath

Mdonath@yahoo.com