So much of what I'd been doing was habit. Do I really need a haiku poem list with dozens of messages a day? And all those other newsy things? These things, while not bad in and of themselves were just taking too much time. I'll unsubscribe from those lists. I'll quit the behavior that has become addictive. Making that decision seems like a weight has been lifted.

I need to focus on matters at home. We felt much better last night after a talk. Today, I didn't get sucked into computer-world. I deleted most of my email, and then the three of us spent the day together.

All of us still feeling the effects of that bug, we decided against a noisy movie. We went to Bookman's, where there are things to interest all of us. After a brief perusal of the used CD's, I sat down in a comfy chair and read an interesting magazine.

Then we went onto Border's. Seeking fun things we could do together, I suggested dancing. Laura had some study in her youth in ballroom dancing, so we bought some tango music and dug out some waltz tunes from our collection. We all needed to rest often, but had great fun moving about to the music.

Later, we watched some fascinating shows on TV about animals. The first featured the gorillas Koko, Michael and Ndume, and how well they communicate in sign language. Koko and Michael were also artists, and did some very expressive paintings of flowers and chasing a dog. The other show was about 'miracle pets', who saved their owner's lives. One segment featured two street dogs, one who saved the life of the other. They were obviously in love. One day she got hit by a car and he not only circled around her to keep the cars away, he then dragged her hurt body off the road and onto the side. Later, when she had been taken to the vet, and her injuries mended, the vets learned she was pregnant. They who were before in love, afterwards were inseparable. They couldn't bare to be put in separate cages, or forced to have their walks apart. They simply would not be apart from each other. We all cried, as these animals devotion to each us so clearly echoed our own.

It was wonderful just to spend time together. We cuddled close as we watched TV together. It felt so good to be close. Laura and I both agreed that, even though we're still getting over the flu, it was the best day we'd had together in ages. I don't want to lose that. I want all our days to be like that. It is even more important that we be there for each other as we face the trials that are soon to befall us. Glen, sadly, is not doing well. He is losing his motor skills and keeps falling. I need to be a strength to Laura so that she can be a strength to her Mother in this difficult time.

Therefore, I will be mostly withdrawing from cyberland. I'll answer my email, and will be doing my journal entries, but that's about it. May all of you dear readers find strength in your own families as the holidays approach.

I've not done much about Christmas. Normally, each year I send cards and letters to every person we know. This amounts to about fifty or so cards, at the very least. There has been no cards at all sent out this year. I managed to send out only five letters. That is it. I wrote our friend Paul in Tucson, our friend Vonna in Arkansas (and only because she wrote a newsy letter first), my Aunt June, Julia's Mother, and my Mother. That's it. My Mother has sent me three fascinating packages, which I am waiting until the 25th to open, and all I have sent her is a letter and journal printouts. I do feel a bit guilty. I paid extra money in hopes that lightweight tan envelope would arrive before Christmas. If I had felt even guiltier, I could have spent ELEVEN dollars to ensure it would arrive in time. I wasn't feeling that guilty. Somehow, I hope she will understand.

I did promise a gift would be coming in the future. But still, I feel pretty chintsy.

I promise myself next year will be better. Maybe next year, no one will be dying. Glen isn't doing well. He fell out of his chair yesterday and couldn't get up. Laura and I couldn't lift him and had to get Anton to help us. We resituated him in the more secure living room recliner. He is supposed to elevate his extremely swollen feet for forty eight hours. The doctors claim they don't know the cause of such extreme swelling. They also ooze a matter which the doctors say is related to the fungus in his mouth. ''A reaction to medicine'' is their best guess. We got him a foot soaker which helps him feel a little better. He had no robe, and unable to find a decent one so late in the season, Anton lent him his own heavy warm green robe. James, too, has done what he could, such as taking Glen to his doctors in Phoenix, even if it means taking time off from work. He's made many such trips, and now, too, must also help Glen out of the car, as he can't get out of the car by himself. Laura's brother Greg has brought his aid as well. He's taken over the renovation job on the small mobile home that will be Laura's Mother's new home when the big house finally sells. He is quite a skilled carpenter and his talents are greatly appreciated. With Glen so sick, Laura's Mother rarely eats or sleeps. We are glad that we can at least be there for her and Glen. Still, one feels so helpless against the progression of certain death.

We do what we can.

I saw this poem in a little book of Zen poetry:

Christmas day, Laura's Mother called the ambulance to bring Glen to the hospital. He sat on the edge of the bed, mumbling jibberish, unable to get up. The first team that arrived didn't understand the severity of the situation and left when Glen said he didn't want to go to the hospital. Laura was there when the second team arrived, and was able to make them understand how sick he was. As ambulances must go to the nearest hospital, they brought him to the local hospital, which could do nothing for him, so he was transferred later to the Veteran's hospital.

Upon examination, they found him full of infections, including pneumonia. Yet the tumor hasn't grown that much, so the doctors can't find any reason for his inability to communicate.

But he has moments of lucidity. In those moments, he struggles. Once, he screamed to Mother, ''I love you, I love you, I love you!'' Later, when his mouth couldn't form the words, he held his hand to hers and turned her wedding ring three times, again telling her of his love. He knew the time wouldn't be long.

He continues to worsen. Yet there are still unexpected moments when he rises up against the void. Yesterday, he told Laura's brother Greg ''Don't do anything foolish!'' It, too, was no doubt Glen's way of letting Greg know he loves him.

Still, the consuming void looms larger and larger over him, and the hours go by until the phone rings, messenger bearing the sad, final news we all know will come soon.

Last night at 7:00pm, Laura and I went to bed early. Laura, as she was settling into sleep, spoke softly addressing whatever remained of Glen's consciousness, ''You can let go now. You've done well. We'll take care of Mother. Just let go.'' I, too, joined in and told him, ''At ease . . .''

I grew sleepier, while Laura grew more awake. She got up and called Mother at the hospital. She told Eleanor she, too, should give Glen permission to go. Eleanor had been keeping watch over him, but found herself falling asleep before Laura's call awakened her. After she hung up the phone, she went over to Glen, and he opened his eyes to look at her. She told him she loved him and kissed him, and he kissed her back. Right after that, he passed away.

Had some part of Glen heard Laura? Even skeptical Laura wonders at this. And her sense of timing, how did she do that? Had Laura not called, her Mother would have fallen asleep, and missed this last special moment. We do not know, but I feel Mystery has had a part in it.