My dad is dying. He's been dying for a long time—many years. As long as I've known my husband, and longer. We've had so many years of "who knows if this is his last Christmas," except, those years all seem kind of silly now. We know this will be his last Christmas. If he makes it to Christmas. Things have gone down hill over the last year. He sees the end coming. It scares him. His disability embarrasses him. He's only 58. He's had a fever for 12 days now. Low-grade, most of the time, I think. His doctor wants...