My beloved Stacey, friend and confidante for 22 years, left the hospital yesterday.

After more than forty days, she still is in a coma; and the muscles in her arms and legs are beginning to contract -- which her sisters-in-law and husband fight with daily massage.

In recent weeks, I've been sick or away from home, so I haven't been able to see Stacey. The last time was just before my son went to an audition for college. He asked if he could see Aunt Stacey. Before he auditioned, he needed his hair cut; and Stacey's husband, Mike -- a doll of a guy -- asked my son, "Who cuts your hair?"

Marty fought the tears and lost. No one cuts his hair, not for 16 years, except his Aunt Stacey.

Our life is rearranging around her loss. We are crossing dates off the calendar we made to see each other as couples and and families... and yet, she is still with us. Praying for a miracle is difficult to keep on doing when miracles are in such short supply. I haven't yet seen Stacey in the nursing facility to which she has gone; but from what I know of such places, despite the kindness and decency of the staff, miracles are even harder to find there.

So many of you wrote to tell me that you grieved along with me for Stacey, her husband Mike and their little daughter, Gabi. Please pray now that whatever her destiny has in store for her comes soon.

The long haul is long indeed, and when you can see where it often leads, too much to visit on all their dear heads. Emotion is at war with science; faith with fact. Still in shock at the shock of her illness, no one can imagine her death.

It's a time for empathy and sympathy, not pity. It's a time when information doesn't lead to power.

There's been a cloud over the sun since before Christmas, and "except for..." in every sentence. Seeing Stacey's husband, Mike, live in a twilight land, between then and now, is a drain and a strain. Mike was one of the most carefree men on earth. He had everything -- his beautiful wife, his beautiful daughter, a job where he is loved, a comfortable home.

An actor pictured in People magazine said something recently that stayed with me. He said his philosophy is, "You're alive today. Do 200 situps." It may not be 200 situps you do. But you're alive today. Read a book. Forgive a friend you may not have forever. Notice the birds in the field. Write a letter.

We are all temporary.

with love,

Jacquelyn Mitchard