Imminently dying. In all likelihood he won’t see another daybreak. His family accepts this. Greg, his sober and serious-minded lawyer son, accepts it. Danny, his come day, go day, the devil take Sunday son, accepts it. Even Philomena, his wide-shouldered, indomitable wife of fifty years accepts it. Indeed, just this morning she admitted to me that for all the good her fervent and feverish praying has done Hubert, for all the good her rosaries and litanies have done him, she might as well have been beseeching the slop bucket beside his bed instead of the saints in heaven. If anything, Hubert’s condition worsened during the course of her praying. Yet despite her gloomy outlook and on the off-chance a miracle might still be pulled off, she has, in the face of ridiculous odds, continued throughout the day to intercede for his recovery. In fact, around noon, when Hubert’s fitful sleeping turned into a peaceful slumber — the kind of slumber that eventually slides into death — she redoubled her efforts.
What do You think about Fit Month For Dying (2014)?
